


Keep it Together (and Heal)

by kams_log



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Daddy Dean (Read: Dean's a father), Dean-Centric, Domestic Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Most of the angst is in the past, Past Abuse, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 81,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/kams_log
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean have always been inseparable. They were as close as two brothers could be. That is, until a year ago when Dean mysteriously dropped off the radar. Sam always believed it had something to do with Dean’s bad news girlfriend: Abbigail Donovan. But with no way to contact his brother, Sam was left to himself.</p><p>Now, nearly two years and one strange phone call from Dean later, Sam gets a call from Sioux Falls Police. Abbi is dead, Dean’s in the hospital, and what’s more, there’s a child in the picture. All signs point to a domestic fight turned fatal–but no charges are being pressed. Sam soon learns the reason for this. Dean is the victim of domestic abuse.</p><p>With Abbi dead, and nothing left to Dean in the will, Sam goes to South Dakota to pick up his brother and his niece and takes them back home with him to California. There he hopes Dean will recover and get his life back together after the damage caused by his dead fiance. And when Dean makes friends with Sam’s co-worker, Castiel, Sam starts to believe recovery is possible after all.</p><p>But the past is never easily escaped, leaving Dean, Sam, and Castiel to face demons they never imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maneater - Grace Mitchell

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is maybe one of the most serious fics I've ever written. Also, if you haven't already, please read the tags because they're an important part of what this story is about. (Although I hope the summary covers the basic gist...) 
> 
> Domestic violence and abuse is a very serious thing, and it affects all genders. Not all cases are the same, of course, but it is a problem that needs to be stopped. (I recognize that some statistics show higher percentages for women being victims of domestic violence, however male victim abuse is also, unfortunately, common.) 
> 
> While this story deals with more heavy and serious elements of domestic violence, this is still very much a destiel fic! It'll be a slow build romance, but well worth it in the end. Because of the healing center of this story, the first few chapters will be primarily from Sam and Dean's perspectives. I hope you guys like the first chapter!
> 
> Also, note, if you or someone you know is currently the victim of domestic abuse/violence, there is nothing wrong with seeking help and getting out of that environment. While the process can be difficult, no one deserves to be in that situation, and there are people who are more than willing to help you. Not all cases are the same, but it is not something you have to go through.
> 
> ...
> 
> Extra note: Every chapter title is based off a song that either gave me inspiration for the chapter, or is a subtle hint of what's to come. I've created a Spotify playlist that includes all of the tracks (or cover tracks) that helped inspire each chapter. You can find that playlist here: https://play.spotify.com/user/1227622154/playlist/0NzGryqwtu8bNkrTZZW3gY
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and this fic! Thank you.

Maneater – Grace Mitchell

_(Oh-oh here she comes)_

_Watch out boy she’ll chew you up_

_(Oh-oh here she comes)_

_She’s a Maneater_

Sam wasn’t the type to worry too much about his older brother. Dean had always been able to take care of himself. As long as Sam could remember, Dean was always there looking out for him. Dean was both a father and a mother to him growing up. It was an unfair pedestal to put Dean on, Sam knew. But both he and Dean understood there was no changing it.

Mom was dead. Dad was always gone. Someone had to look out for them. Dean decided it may as well be him. And Sam was too young to understand any better or disagree with him. Not until it was too late to change anything, anyway.

They’d been inseparable growing up. A dynamic duo of sorts. They had hundreds of fights, of course, they were brothers after all. But it was always them against the rest of the world. Nothing could get between them, and Sam always felt safe knowing that Dean was never a step too far behind him.

But that all changed when Sam went to college. In retrospect, Sam understood how it might look to Dean. That he was abandoning him somehow. But that wasn’t the case at all, and Dean had to know that. Sam had to get away from John, from their father. It was too much for Sam. He needed to get out, make a life of his own. Something different than tracking down some homicidal maniac that may or may not have killed their mom years ago.

It wasn’t anything against John or Dean. Sam just needed space.

And that space just so happened to be over two thousand miles and over 25 hours of driving nonstop. Sam tried to tell himself it wasn’t just the distance. It was also about college. It was about the full ride to Stanford. But the look on Dean’s face when he left, John’s words ringing in both their ears, “Don’t you ever come back…” It was almost too painful to dwell on.

In the end, he could only hope that Dean would figure out Sam’s reasons sooner rather than later, and would follow him back to California and get away from John.

He didn’t realize that it would take two years, a near death experience, and John’s death for Dean to show up at his door. Never mind that Dean was covered in blood, cuts, and bruises. Sam knew what kind of life John led. He also knew Dean was too damn loyal to walk away if he thought John needed him, or anybody else really needed him for that matter.

As Sam later learned, Dean and John had been caught up in a gang war between Alastair and Azazel.

“We got that son of a bitch, by the way,” Dean had mumbled before passing out. “Bastard that killed mom. Got ‘im Sammy.”

Sam didn’t know what to say to that. When Dean woke up, neither of them talked about it again. Between Azazel’s death and John’s untimely demise… It was easier to pretend.

But Sam wasn’t in Stanford for fun. He did his research. Azazel was dead from a bullet to the brain. It was tied back to Alastair’s gang. Sam saw Dean’s tattoo later, a hellish mark that Sam recognized as Alastair’s ring.

Dean didn’t stay long enough to talk about it. He left immediately after John’s funeral and went back for Lawrence to live with Bobby, to start a ‘real career’ in mechanics and car reparations. Sam let him go, but only under the promise that they stay in contact. Dean more than happily agreed.

Another two years passed, and Sam was graduating. Dean attended, Bobby too. They clapped him on the back, once again complemented his taste in women after greeting Jess. And then they left again. But Sam was okay with that. He and Dean talked on the phone four times a week, constantly checking in and making sure the other was okay.

Sam was getting into an official law practice. Dean was excelling in his work. Both of them couldn’t be happier.

And then Dean got a girlfriend.

“Her name’s Abbigail Donovan,” Dean said over the phone. And damn, Sam could’ve sworn his older brother sounded _whipped_. “You should see her, Sammy. She’s _gorgeous_ , and she knows what she’s doing. She’s actually a professor at a university a town over. Can’t imagine how they let her get away with wearing that leather jacket in class though… _damn_.”

Sam had laughed at him, but encouraged Dean to pursue the relationship. He knew that Dean got lonely, not that his brother would ever admit to such a thing. And all of Dean’s old relationships had never worked out. Sam had thought it’d go all the way with Lisa two years ago, but in the end, Dean called things off. Something about, “she deserves better than an emotionally stunted grunt, Sammy.”

Yeah, well _Sammy_ gave Dean a thorough tongue lashing for that one. Dean deserved to be happy. And if he could find some measure of happiness with this chick Abbi, then Sam was all for it.

At least he was. Until Dean started slowly dropping off the radar. It wasn’t noticeable at first. Just little things that began to add up. Dean started missing their nightly calls. He would call back randomly at obscure times, always apologizing for missing their meets and promising not to miss it again.

But he would. And he never stopped missing them, until the only consistent time they could talk was once a week, and only for a few minutes each time.

Sam tried to call Bobby, figure out what was up with Dean. But Bobby wasn’t sure. Dean still seemed to be his usual self, and Bobby even promised to get on Dean’s tail about calling Sam a little more often. Or at least for longer periods of time. Not just ten minutes a week.

Until finally, two weeks went by and Sam hadn’t received one call from his brother. That was when he got a call from Bobby.

“Dean quit his job.”

“What?” Sam exclaimed, loud enough to startle Jess who was lying on the couch across from him. “Why? He loves his job. When did he quit?”

“He called in sick this week. I didn’t think too much of it. Until some dude in a suit showed up with Dean’s resignation notice.”

“A dude in a suit?” Sam asked, standing and beginning to pace. Jess watched him expectantly, her gaze worried. “That can’t possibly count. Dean would have to be there to resign, right?”

“It’s Dean’s handwriting, Sam. There’s a two page letter and a sob story about Abbi having some family troubles, and he needs to be there for her or somethin.’ The whole thing just screams _wrong_ , son,” Bobby grunted. “This ain’t Dean. I tried calling him five times, but the idjit won’t pick up!”

“I’ll call him,” Sam said firmly.

“Good luck with that. Last time Dean did this… he didn’t wanna’ be found.”

“You know I’m going to ask you about that later. I’m going to call him now.”

Sam did call him. A hundred times. He left nearly a thousand texts too over the following two weeks, and he even did research on ‘Abbigail Donovan.’ Dean had been telling the truth. She was some professor at a university in Kansas. When Sam called the school, they promptly informed him that Miss Donovan had transferred to a new branch, and that they would forward his message for him if he liked.

Sam let them, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. And he never heard back from the university again.

He didn’t hear back from Dean either for another year. It was Sam’s 24th birthday when he finally got a call back. Sam hadn’t recognized the ID number, but the moment he answered, he thought he’d entered the twilight zone.

“Sammy?”

Sam’s heart nearly stopped beating. _Nearly_. “D-Dean? Oh my gosh, _Dean_. Where are you? Where have you been? Bobby and I have been trying to get a hold of you for a year! We were starting to think you were dead or in a ditch or something.”

A nervous laugh responded. “Uh, no, not dead… I’m okay, Sam.”

“Where are you? We need to talk Dean.”

Dean didn’t respond for a moment. When he did, Sam’s blood ran cold.

“I love you Sammy. You know that, right? I know I never really told you that much growing up, but I really love you and I need to know how you’re doing.”

“I… I’m fine Dean,” Sam replied. “I love you too, man. But I really need to know where you are. Where are you? Where’s Abbigail?”

“You’re turning twenty-four today, right?” Dean replied instead, entirely ignoring Sam’s pleas. “Damn, I bet you still look like a bean pole. Please tell me you’re putting on a _little_ weight. Gotta’ go domestic for Jess, right? You should marry her.”

Sam tried not to hyperventilate as he sat down. Jess was just in the next room, hosting a birthday party just for him. All his friends were there. Jess, Gabe, Benny, Castiel, Charlie, the whole team. But Dean wasn’t there. And that was what hurt the most.

“Dean. Come back, please. Whatever’s going on, wherever you are, just come back. Please. I’m seriously freaking out, man. Talk to me.”

“I… I need to go. Happy birthday. I love you Sammy. I love you so much, I’m sorry—“

The phone abruptly clicked off, and with it, Sam felt hot tears stream down his cheeks.

He didn’t know how, but he knew that Dean wouldn’t be calling him again. And the thought alone was nearly enough to destroy him.

Sam called Bobby almost immediately after, told him what had happened. Bobby had sworn like a sailor for two minutes straight, before swearing up and down again that he was going to find Dean and figure this entire damn thing out. Sam hoped to God Bobby could deliver, cause Sam didn’t know what he could do from California. His Stanford degree suddenly felt like a flimsy piece of paper now. And his recent success in his law firm felt obsolete.

If he couldn’t get back his brother, what was the point in it all anyway?

Time passed. Life went on. Sam continued to excel in his career. Jess took the world by the throat, but in the end, the world shook too hard back and Sam lost her to a house fire the night before he planned to propose. His friends comforted him. Bobby called. Sam mourned. Not just for Jess, but for the brother who was slowly growing deader with every day that he and Bobby couldn’t find him.

Another year passed. Bobby came to live in California, hoping that if they worked more closely together they might have a better chance of finding Dean. Even if nothing ever came of their searches, Sam was grateful for his surrogate father’s presence.

During that time, Sam turned twenty five. He almost dared to hope for another phone call from Dean. But this time, none came. It seemed his hunch the previous year had been correct. Dean wouldn’t be calling again. But that didn’t mean Sam couldn’t call him.

Sam dialed the number Dean had used to call him. It rang three times before going to voicemail. It was an automated voice. But it didn’t stop Sam from saying with some finality, “Jess died. House fire. God, Dean, she’s _dead_.” He took a moment to collect himself, pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead before finishing, “Come home, Dean. Please come home.”

He hung up. Dean never called back.

Six months passed and life started to return back to normal. And then, Sam finally got the call he was waiting for. But it wasn’t the one he was expecting, either. He’d been sitting in his office, thumbing through his case work when he picked up the phone.

“Is this Sam Winchester?” An unfamiliar female voice asked.

“It is,” Sam replied, shifting through his paperwork tiredly. “What can I do for you?”

“I work for Sioux Falls Police Department. We’re calling on behalf of your brother, Dean Winchester.”

“Dean?” And just like that, all thoughts of work and a night out with his dog were lost to the wind. _Dean_. “You said Sioux Falls? _South Dakota_? The police? What happened? Is he okay?”

“Sir, please calm down. Your brother is alive if that’s what you’re getting at.” The voice huffed and Sam went silent. “He’s in Sioux Falls Memorial Hospital. You were listed as next of kin to contact in case of emergencies.”

“Why is he in the hospital?” Sam asked. He grabbed his coat and threw it on, careful to keep the phone near his ear no matter what.

The lady on the other end hesitated to speak, and Sam almost growled but kept his tone in check. “Like you said, I’m his brother. I’m coming, but I’d like to know what I’m walking into. If you know?”

The woman sighed and he heard the sound of papers being shuffled. “Your brother is the victim of domestic abuse. He was working with police here to have his partner arrested, but things got out of hand. Abbigail Donovan, Dean Winchester’s fiancé, is dead. Dean Winchester is in the hospital with multiple injuries. He was rushed in before he could bleed out, and his daughter is also there but uninjured—“

“Wait, who? Dean has a daughter?”

“An infant. Six months. Emma Mary Winchester. Ms. Donovan put his name down as the father.”

 _Emma Mary Winchester_. At first, Sam wanted to scoff at the unusual sounding name. But _Mary_. Their mother’s name. Sam felt a lump form in his throat as he grabbed his briefcase and keys.

“I’ll be there in a few hours. Is there… Is there anything else I should know?” Sam asked, locking the door behind him. He spotted Castiel Novak, his legal secretary and friend, speaking with his brother Gabriel, one of the firm’s paralegals. They fell silent when they saw him, both noticing his tense posture.

“Your brother needs to be collected. We won’t be arresting him for Miss Donovan’s murder. We have enough evidence to prove it was self-defense. But until then, it would be helpful for someone to come in and make sure that everything’s together and that he’ll be alright when he’s released from medical. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Sam said. “I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“You said that already,” the voice sounded irritated, but relieved. “We look forward to your arrival, Mr. Winchester. Dean…. Your brother, he spoke very fondly of you.”

“You know him personally?” Sam was surprised. So far, the person speaking had seemed distant, robotic and waiting to move on to the next call. But there was an unusual amount of gentleness in her last words that had Sam hesitant.

“In a way. We all know Dean here. See you in a few hours, Mr. Winchester.” And with that, the phone clicked and the call was dropped.

Sam’s heart lunged with it. It propelled his legs into action, and he was soon standing by the desk where Castiel and Gabriel sat. Gabe was sprawled out in his seat, one leg dangling off the arm rest while Castiel stood at the side.

“Is everything alright, Sam?” Castiel asked, his eyes narrowing in concern. Gabe sucked on his lollipop and nodded along.

“Yeah, you don’t look too hot, buck-o.”

“My brother,” Sam rasped. Understanding immediately dawned on their faces.

“Is he alright?” Gabe asked, lowering his legs to the ground.

Sam shook his head. “He’s in the hospital. He’ll live. But his girlfriend, the one I told you about? Apparently they got engaged, had a daughter, and now she’s dead.”

“Wait, the daughter’s dead?” Gabe asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

“No, the fiancé,” Sam grunted. “Their daughter… She’s only a baby. She’s okay, but Dean needs someone to collect him and make sure he’s okay. So I’m leaving for a few days, max. Can you hold the fort down, take care of my case calls?”

“Sure thing kiddo,’” Gabe nodded seriously. “You know I got it covered.”

“I’ll deliver the news to Naomi,” Castiel added solemnly. “We’ll take care of things. You go to your brother.”

“I owe you one,” Sam said to them, patting Castiel on the shoulder before rushing out of the room.

It was hell finding a flight to South Dakota on such short notice. But by the grace of God he found one and was on it before midnight.

He even remembered to call Bobby and let him know what happened. Bobby had demanded to go with him, but Sam had been lucky enough to find one seat available on the next airline. It was nothing against Bobby, but Sam wasn’t waiting another second. Fortunately, Bobby understood, and even promised to look after his dog while he was gone. With that worry off his shoulders, Sam boarded the plane and began what felt like the longest flight of his life.

It was only a few hours later that he was landing in Sioux Falls with no idea where he was going to stay, or what he was going to do after he saw Dean. But he could only focus on one thing at a time. And his first priority was Dean. And _God,_ Dean.

It had been over a year since Sam last talked to him. Two years since he even saw him, and actually talked to him on a regular basis. Sam didn’t know what to think, or what to expect. He supposed he’d just have to be ready for anything.

It was still dark out when he landed, and too early to visit the hospital. So he went and located a hotel, dropped off his things, and tried to get some rest before the sun came up. He barely slept.

When morning finally arrived he felt tired and gruesome. But he made sure to freshen himself up and look presentable before he left. He didn’t want Dean to see him and think he was hung-over or something equally ridiculous. He also didn’t feel like scaring any nurses or doctors that day.

But for some reason, this did nothing to stop the shock when he walked up to the main desk.

“Hello, my name’s Sam Winchester. I’m here to see my brother, Dean Winchester,” Sam said. The nurse looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide and hesitant.

She bit her lip and scratched something down on a piece of paper before replying, “He’s in the back, in room 204. You’ll… know it when you see it.”

Sam nodded and thanked her, not bothering to ask what she meant. He walked down the hallways, keeping out of the way of other nurses and doctors that wandered the halls. And sure enough, he recognized the room when he saw it. It was hard to miss the two suits that guarded the door that read _204_.

Sam swallowed hard as he walked up to them. They glared down at him, calculating his appearance.

“I’m Dean’s brother, Sam Winchester?” He offered. The tallest one, standing at least an inch above Sam, snarled and grunted, “Identification?”

Sam swallowed and nodded, quickly pulling out his driver’s license. The man looked it over skeptically, but after a small nod of approval from his partner, the man grumbled and handed the license back before waving him through. Sam tried not to let his nerves get to him.

But that all went away when he saw his brother in the hospital bed.

Dean was unconscious, but the heart monitor beside him was a constant reassurance that he was, in fact, alive and well. But Dean didn’t look alive and well. Bandages covered his torso in large crosses and angles. His skin was pale, and he looked unusually thin. Dark bruises covered his arms and neck, and Sam didn’t even _want_ to know what those bandages were covering up.

Sam walked closer to the bed, grabbing a seat and sitting beside his brother. He couldn’t believe this was real. That his brother was alive and right in front of him. After two years, he could finally reach out and touch his brother. But he didn’t. He held himself back, afraid that if he even leaned forward Dean might disappear from him again.

Sam’s eyes travelled down his brother’s thin frame, and his heart thundered in his chest. His pale wrists were secured to each side of the bed, as were his ankles at the base.

“He woke up earlier this morning,” a voice said from behind, making Sam startle. He turned to see a woman standing there. She had long blond hair and kind eyes, but Sam imagined that she could be quite scary if he got on her bad side.

“I’m Dr. Harvelle, but you can call me Ellen,” the woman said, extending a hand to Sam. He took it cautiously and smiled weakly.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother for me,” he replied. She shook her head.

“There wasn’t that much we could do for him, except stitch up a few wounds and put him under for a few hours. Like I said, he woke up earlier this morning. But he woke up swinging. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. He was just freaked out, didn’t know where he was or where his daughter was. He should wake up in a clearer state next time.”

“When will that be?” Sam asked, turning back to his brother. He was careful not to look at the restraints, but it was too hard to look anywhere else.

“Soon, most likely. Your timing is great.” Dr. Harvelle, Ellen, moved to stand on the other side of the bed. She picked up Dean’s chart and looked over it. “How much do you know? About your brother’s situation?”

“Someone from the police department called me. I didn’t get her name. She said Dean was, uh, in an abusive relationship? But that his fiancé is dead now. They also said he has a daughter?”

Ellen nodded slowly and glanced over her paperwork again.

“That’s pretty much it. Abbigail Donovan. Nasty piece of work. Dean’s practically a regular here. He came in every few weeks when things got really bad. It took us a year to convince him to talk to the police, that they wouldn’t laugh him out of the precinct. You know?”

Sam shook his head, because no, he didn’t know. He couldn’t understand how his brother, his big brother Dean, who made every kind of scum bag on the earth shake in their boots, could be the victim of domestic abuse. The thought alone was insane. How had the relationship continued so long? How did Dean not leave sooner? Why did it take so long to get a call?

“They… they said that he killed her, but they wouldn’t be pressing charges.”

“That’s right,” Ellen said seriously. “Like I said, we eventually convinced him to go to the police. At first it was difficult to believe. Unfortunately, it always is difficult at first for male victims of domestic abuse. But like I said, that bitch was a piece of work. It didn’t take long to figure out. By Dean’s second visit, they were planning a way to get her behind bars.”

“What went wrong?” Sam asked. Ellen grumbled something under her breath.

“Well, _she_ did. They had everything ready. Dean found a way to get security cameras in the house. They were gonna’ catch her in the act and everything. But you just can’t predict these kinds of things. I’m not the police, but my daughter Jo is one of the dispatchers there. She… she knew Dean. She knows more than I do. But from what I’ve gathered, the fiancé threatened Dean and their kid and all hell broke loose. Next thing anyone knows, she’s dead, Dean’s bleeding out unconscious, and the baby’s screaming. The cops showed up a few minutes later. Just in time to save Dean’s life, but Donovan was long dead.”

 _Good_ , Sam thought, reminding himself he shouldn’t feel bad for her death. She hurt Dean. She’d been abusing him for two years. If she was gone that was a good thing. While the lawyer in Sam wished she was behind bars for all eternity, his little brother decided an eternity locked in hell was much better.

“The baby,” Sam said, his voice scratched by emotion, “where is she?”

“You wanna’ see her?” Ellen asked. Something like a shimmer lit up her eyes, and Sam was immediately tempted.

“I want to be here when Dean wakes up.”

“It should be another hour. One look shouldn’t hurt.” Ellen said, seeming to sense his desire. Sam grinned and nodded.

“Okay.”

She smiled and nodded for him to follow her out. Once they were down the hall, Ellen said casually, “Oh, and if you were wondering about those suits by the door, that was just a safety precaution. There was some concern that Donovan’s friends might try to get revenge for Dean killing her. There’s another two guys watching Emma.”

Sam nodded in understanding, even though he didn’t understand who Abbigail’s ‘friends’ might be, or why it would require this much precaution, but anything that kept his brother or his niece safe was okay with Sam.

And oh God, Sam realized, he had a _niece_. His brother was a _father_. And Sam was a freaking _uncle_.

“What’s she like?” Sam couldn’t help but ask. Ellen grinned.

“You’ll see soon enough. But I will say this, she’s got her father’s fire.”

“I’d certainly hope so,” Sam chuckled at that.

They went down an elevator to the bottom floor. Ellen led him down a few halls, but soon, he was facing another two men in suits and a room full of babies behind a glass wall. Sam’s eyes strayed over them all, but he didn’t know what he was looking for.

“We usually just put the newborns here. But we didn’t have anywhere else to put Emma, so she’s just there in the back.” Ellen used a keycard to open the door and showed Sam inside, leading him to the back were separate cribs were located.

“I don’t understand. Wouldn’t you usually put the child with social services?” Sam asked. Ellen shook her head.

“Not in this case. Dean is entirely capable of taking care of a child. It was Miss Donovan that was the problem. But now that she’s gone, there is no threat to the baby. Unless of course, Dean fails a psyche evaluation. But he was of sound mind before Donovan’s death. So he’ll have to retake that test, of course. Until then, he’s technically in the all clear. So is Emma. So she’s here until he wakes up and can talk with some specialists.”

“Dean will love that,” Sam scoffed at the idea of Dean happily talking to any medical professionals. But clearly, many things had changed in the past two years. Hopefully these things would’ve changed too. At least for the sake of his daughter.

Ellen huffed an affirmative, however, so Dean must still have held his reservations.

“He’ll live,” Ellen commented and stopped walking. Sam looked down at the crib in front of them. He felt all the air rush out of his lungs at once.

She was _beautiful_. She had a short buzz of blond hair that curled slightly at the tips. She had wide, dark green eyes that stared up at them inquisitively, all too awake and alive and _aware_. She wasn’t like other babies Sam had seen. It was like she took one look at them and _knew_ they were there. Not like the children who looked right through others, or didn’t realize they were being adored. This baby, Dean’s baby, _knew_ she was being looked at. And she looked right back.

“Sam Winchester, meet your niece: Emma Mary Winchester.”

“Oh my God,” Sam breathed, touching the edge of the crib and looking down at her more closely. She had pink chubby cheeks and chubby hands. She shook her fist at them, as though demanding why they were there and bothering her. She looked strong for being only six months old. Strong like her daddy.

“She’s gorgeous,” Sam exclaimed. “Can I… Can I hold her?”

Ellen seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Dean talks fondly of you. He always found a way to bring you up whenever he came in for us to check out some injuries. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, watching as Ellen pulled the baby up out of the crib. She cuddled the child for a short minute before nodding for Sam to extend his arms.

As soon as Emma was in his arms, Sam felt warmth spread through his chest. Emma, his niece, stared at him curiously. She batted her fist against his chest and Sam laughed, almost ready to forget that Dean was just upstairs waking up from what was probably the worst night of his life. But with little Emma in his arms, Sam could only imagine how Dean must have felt holding his baby girl for the first time.

Sam felt a small pang in his chest. Dean hadn’t even tried to call him. Emma was born just six months ago, and Sam never would have known. He couldn’t blame Dean though, knowing what he knew now. Who knew what Abbigail threatened to do if Dean tried to call him? Sam had no place to judge. He just wanted to make sure his brother was alright.

“Can I bring her upstairs? I’m sure Dean would feel better if he could see his daughter first thing, right?” Sam asked, although he already knew it wasn’t going to happen.

Ellen shook her head and took Emma back into her arms. Emma gurgled in protest, but quieted as soon as she was put back into the crib.

“Like I said, we don’t know what Dean will be like once he wakes up as himself again. Having you there will be a comfort by itself. Don’t you think?”

Sam nodded, casting one last look at Emma before turning back to Ellen.

“I guess I better be there when he wakes up.”


	2. Biting Down - Lorde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh guys, thank you SO MUCH for your comments and kudos last chapter. They were overwhelming in the best of ways, and you totally gave me the confidence boost I needed for this story. I really appreciated all of your words, you seriously made my entire week. So thank you!!
> 
> Also, note for the story, because of the nature of this story it's going to be a slow build romance for destiel. We won't see Castiel for a few chapters, but when they meet... Well, let's just say that the wait will be worth it. I promise. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for enjoying what I have so far. I hope you like Chapter 2! This Chapter will be in Dean's POV. Same tags and warnings apply.

Biting Down – Lorde

_Skip a hit, don’t make a sound_

_(It feels better biting down)_

_Breathe so deep I thought I’d drown_

_(It feels better biting down)_

The last thing he remembered was red. He saw red on his hands, red bathing in the carpet, red on his clothes, and red on _her_. He remembered thinking, somewhat morbidly, that the blood was the same color as her hair. Dark and crimson, the color of gore and death. Funny, ‘cause he knew she was dead now. Her lifeless eyes had stared holes into him, unable to comprehend what she’d done wrong. It was as though she never truly understood what made him snap in the end. She thought she’d been in control.

And the worst part of it all… she _was_. She’d always been in control. And he couldn’t stop her. He never could until that night. Last night.

A flash of steel; he saw red again.

Dean opened his eyes slowly, blinking repeatedly when he was nearly blinded by the fluorescent lights above his head. It was too bright. But it wasn’t like the red darkness hiding behind his eyelids, so he forced his eyes to stay open. He winced when his head pounded in anger.

“Ah shit,” he groaned. He attempted to raise his hands, hold his head and numb some of the pain. But his arms weren’t moving. Come to think of it, his legs were stuck too. He blinked again and looked down. He didn’t know what to think when he saw the restraints. But as the memories came back, he decided it was probably wiser this way.

After Abbi, after this morning… Yeah, it was better this way.

 _Shit_ , what time was it anyway? Dean rolled his head to the side, flexing his arms in an effort to get some feeling back. He needed to move. He needed to see Emma. He needed to make sure she was okay. The last he saw, she was lying on the couch screaming bloody murder. Literally.

Dean huffed as the memory flashed back to him. The knife in her hand, no, _his_ hand. Blood splattering the walls, him, her, the floor. Her hair spreading out against the carpet in waves as the blood swept to join her. Dean hadn’t been far behind.

He heard footsteps enter the room.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a female voice spoke. Dean rolled his head back to look at the door and squinted. He recognized the doctor in an instant. He’d seen her dozens of times over the past two years.

“Hey’a Ellen,” Dean grumbled, giving a half-hearted tug at his restraints. “Love the accessories.”

“Yeah, figured you’d like ‘em,” she replied with a smirk, but the usual warmth was missing. Typical. “Especially after your little temper tantrum this morning.”

“You can hardly blame me,” Dean said and narrowed his eyes. “Let me out now?”

Ellen clucked her tongue at him, but smiled weakly. “We’ll see. But first, you have a visitor Dean.”

Dean shook his head. That didn’t make sense. He didn’t know anyone well enough to warrant visitors except for Jo, Ellen’s daughter. She was kind of like a little sister to him, for all the effort she made to check in on him. Even though he always told her to lay off, that it was bad news for her to talk to him, she kept at it anyway. But judging by how much light was coming through the window, Dean knew she had to be on duty. She couldn’t be the visitor. And that made Dean anxious. Because that made the list much shorter, and much deadlier.

“No—“ Dean struggled to sit up, but his restraints held him back. “Ellen, no.”

“Trust me, you’ll wanna’ see this one.”

“Ellen, please—“

But Ellen whistled, and a tall man entered the room. Dean could have sworn his heart stopped beating but the heart monitor beside him kept going. Dean stared.

“ _Sam_.”

He didn’t look that different. But there were immediate contrasts. Two years ago Sam was twenty three years old, getting into a law practice, moving in with Jess and was happy to be alive. He also had shorter hair at the time. Still a mop, but short.

This Sam seemed a little too old for only two years to have gone by. There was a tired set to his eyes. His hair was a little longer, and there was heaviness in his steps that Dean didn’t remember from before. He was wearing a suit too, and he looked like he could use a month’s worth of vacation.

Sam looked just as stunned as Dean felt. “Dean?” He said, and Dean felt his body relax. Yep, definitely Sammy. No matter what changed for Sam in the past two years, that voice hadn’t changed at all. Damn. _Sam was here_.

Dean didn’t notice Ellen move to unlock the cuffs holding his wrists down.

“Oh my God, Dean,” Sam said again. The next thing Dean knew, long arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug. Dean returned the embrace heartily and tugged his brother closer. Sam smelled like mints and something warm, like a fireplace or freshly made pie. He smelled like home and safety. Dean burrowed in closer.

“What are you doing here, man?” Dean asked, only pulling away when he felt his limbs start to burn in protest. His body wasn’t ready for hugs yet. “How… how are you here?”

Sam, despite being separated from his brother’s arms, continued to hold a hand to Dean’s as he sat down in the visitor’s chair. “I got a call from the police, Dean.” His little brother put on his lawyer voice, but Dean could see right through it. Sam was worried as hell. Dean understood.

“The… police? They called you?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “They were calling on behalf of the hospital. I’m listed on your emergency contacts. They told me what happened.”

Dean swallowed hard and glanced around the room. Ellen had made herself scarce, and Dean found himself unable to escape. He looked back at Sam. He was staring at him earnestly. Dean swallowed again and asked carefully, “What did they say?”

Sam had the decency to look uncomfortable before replying, “They told me about Abbi. What… what happened to her. They told me you were engaged, and about your daughter. I even got to see her, she’s beautiful.”

Dean’s eyes widened briefly, but he frowned moments later. His daughter. _Emma_. Sam had seen her. Sam got to see Emma, his niece, and Dean didn’t even get to be there to witness the meeting.

Sam, misinterpreting Dean’s expression, hurried on to say, “She’s okay, Dean. She’s okay. Ellen said she was perfectly unharmed, and I can’t believe how beautiful she is Dean. She looks like you. Blonde hair, green eyes, and a mean pout. It’s like she’s just lying there wondering when the hell you’re gonna’ show up and get her out of this dump.”

Dean laughed quietly. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sounds like her. She’s a bit of a fireball, let me tell ya.’”

“Please,” Sam replied.

An uneasy silence fell between them. Dean clenched his fists around the sheets, staring determinedly at his feet which were still locked in for some reason. Sam said nothing, and Dean was glad for it. He needed a second to absorb the situation.

Damn. It had been too long. Two years, and now here they sat in a hospital room, pretending like nothing had happened and chatting about his daughter, who Dean was nearly dying to see. But he couldn’t see her yet. He had to deal with Ellen and the other doctors, with the police, with _Sam_. And he was growing more anxious by the second.

“Dean—“ Sam tried to start, but Dean shook his head firmly.

“No Sam,” he interrupted. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sam stared at him for a long moment, but thankfully said nothing. Instead he replied, “Ellen says you’re going to have to talk to some people. To make sure you’re alright in the head. You did just kill someone, after all.”

“It’s not like she was the first,” Dean grumbled. In the back of his mind he could see Azazel, grinning madly at him before Dean’s gun went off. He could see Alastair, smirking and entirely unprepared for what was coming to him. His Dad, and all the times someone died, not by Dean’s hand, but he still felt responsible.

Sam shook his head. “As far as the law cares, she was the first. And hopefully the last. They need to make sure you’re sane enough to take care of Emma.”

At the sound of his daughter’s name, Dean perked up and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll survive. Besides, I know their kind. I know what to say.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam replied with a tentative smile.

It was then that Ellen walked back into the room, this time accompanied by two other men in white coats and blue scrubs.

“Sam,” Ellen said, “Would you mind stepping out for a few minutes? We have some things to take care of here.”

Dean stared at the two doctors beside her. They were probably the guys who were going to decide if he was a nut case or not. They looked cool enough, but Dean remained wary as Sam nodded.

“Yeah, of course. Dean, you okay here?” Sam asked. Dean almost laughed at him. Leave it to Sam to make sure Dean was good. Even if Dean wanted him to stay, Sam could easily be forced to leave. But it was nice that Sam still offered him a chance to say no.

“I’m good,” Dean replied, shoving at Sam’s shoulder to get him away. “You go take out the vending machine or something. Make whatever calls you need to.”

“I’ll be calling Bobby.” Something warm spread through Dean’s chest at the name of his surrogate father. Dean smiled.

“Thought you might,” Dean said before Sam finally nodded and left the room.

Dean looked at the remaining doctors in the room and cracked his knuckles. “So, who wants to go first?”

***SPN***

It was a few hours and several frustrating conversations later, but Dean was in the clear. Ellen even unlocked his remaining cuffs and helped him sit upright.

“You better take it easy there, son,” she’d said when Dean winced. “You got some nasty wounds there. They’re gonna’ take quite a bit of time to heal, so you better not push too much.”

“How long till I get out?” Dean asked. Ellen moved away and sighed. 

“Always restless,” she grumbled. “But I’d give it at least a day. We’ll see about you leaving tomorrow evening, if all goes well. You talk things over with your brother. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.”

Dean appreciated the unspoken concern behind those words. _You have nowhere to go. Your fiancé left everything she owned to bastards who’d like to see you burned. You need to get out of town anyway_.

Ellen left the room to get Sam. Dean took a moment to settle in and get comfortable. When his little, but definitely not short, brother came in through the door, Dean beat him to the punch. “We need to talk.”

Sam seemed relieved as he came to sit beside him. But Dean could sense his hesitation.

“You sure?” Sam replied. “I mean, it can wait if you want. Ellen says you have another day till you’re out.”

Dean shook his head and waved a hand. “No, this… this is important, Sam. I need you to listen for a sec.’”

Sam shifted in his seat and nodded. “Is this about… her?”

Dean nodded and sighed. “Yeah. Look… I’m just going to skip the pleasantries. Abbi’s will says the house and everything she had goes to her friends. I only get to walk away with Emma and whatever I can find of hers back at the house.” Dean shifted and stared at Sam intently. “I… I need your help.”

Sam nodded seriously. He was thoughtful for a few minutes, and Dean started to worry what his brother was thinking. But Sam replied, “Well that’s simple enough. We could just go and get your stuff, Emma’s stuff, then pack up whatever else you need and ship out.”

“I’m sorry, ship out?” Dean asked. His eyes narrowed and he continued, “Where would we be going?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I guess I just assumed... I was hoping that you would, you know, come home with me? Back to California. If Abbi took everything, then it sounds like you have nowhere to go. I guess I just thought you might like to come back.”

Dean stared as Sam fidgeted in his seat. “You… you want me to go back with you?”

Sam looked anxious, but nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sorry, I understand if you want to stay. I mean, this place has been your home for two years—“

“I’m going.”

“What?” Sam’s shock was obvious, but Dean couldn’t be more relieved.

“Damn, Sam. I didn’t think it would be that easy. Hell yes I wanna’ go with you.”

“Seriously?”

“Are you gonna’ make me repeat myself, bitch?” Dean was grinning, and Sam beamed back.

“You’re a jerk, Dean,” Sam rubbed a hand over his face tiredly and leaned back in his seat. “I’d hug you if Ellen told me not to do it again.”

“Yeah,” Dean grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe no hugs for a while.”

Sam laughed at that and smiled. “In the meantime… anything you need from me? Anything I can do while you’re bedridden?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, this old guy needs his rest. But… actually, if you could head back to the house and start packing up some stuff, that would help a lot.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam said and moved to stand. Dean raised a hand.

“Wait,” he said. “Talk to Ellen. You need someone to go with you, and there’s nobody I trust more than her daughter Jo. I don’t want you going anywhere near that place alone. Got it?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he stepped back towards Dean. “Do I need to ask why?”

Dean stared up at him and stopped himself from biting his lip. _I don’t know_ , he thought to himself. _Maybe there might be a few of Abbi’s friends waiting for me to show up so they can kill me. Maybe just being related to me might give them enough reason to want to hurt you too. Maybe I’m tired of watching people get hurt_. But instead of saying any of these things, Dean replied stiffly, “I’ll tell ya’ some other time.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll talk to Ellen.”

“Oh, and Sammy,” Dean said before his brother could walk away. “Maybe… maybe find out when I can see Emma?”

His brother’s eyes were soft when he replied, “You got it. I’ll see you in a bit Dean. I’m glad you’re okay.”

 _Jury’s still out_ , Dean thought to himself, but smiled and waved his brother away. As soon as Sam was gone Dean fell back against his pillows and took a deep breath.

Abbi was dead. Emma was safe. Sam was here. He tried to convince himself that everything was going to be okay.


	3. Poison & Wine - The Civil Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is almost out of the hospital, but in the meantime Sam has to collect Dean's things and get ready for the trip back to California. Sam meets Jo and learns more about Dean's missing two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you guys for being so patient for the next updates. The next one should come on either Friday or Tuesday depending on my schedule. (Regardless, I'll always update on Tuesdays. So don't worry there.)
> 
> In the meantime, thank you all so much for your comments! They were very uplifting and they made my entire week. So thank you again! 
> 
> I hope you all like Chapter 3!

Poison and Wine – The Civil Wars

_Your hands can heal, your hands can bruise_

_I don’t have a choice, but I’d still choose you_

Sam woke up the next morning with the full intentions of going to the house and packing Dean’s things. The entire day before had been a long one, with the flight to Sioux Falls, seeing Emma and Dean, and getting caught up in everything that had happened. That evening Dean would be released from the hospital, and Sam was hoping to have all of Dean’s things ready to go for the trip back to California.

But first thing was first. He had to call Jo Harvelle and ask her to go to the house with him. Dean’s orders. Sam wanted to ask why, press for more information. But one look at Dean’s face and Sam decided against it. They had a long trip back to California anyway. Then Sam could ask anything he wanted about Dean’s paranoia, or about anything that Dean would be willing to talk about.

While the likelihood of Dean talking about Abbi or the mysteries surrounding their two years together was unlikely, Sam still wanted to know. He just had to trust that Dean would open up with time. That was the hope, anyway.

When Sam heard about Jo Harvelle, he wasn’t sure what he expected. But a short blonde woman was not at the top of his list. But within five minutes of knowing her, Sam liked her. He could see why Dean liked her, too.

Jo was feisty and strong willed. It made sense since she was a police officer. But Jo was adamant that she’d always been that way. “In college I was the freak kid with the knife collection. Everyone thought I was gonna’ be the one behind bars, not the one handling the keys. Go figure, you know?”

Sam only laughed and nodded along. Even though he’d never been in Sioux Falls, the people Sam met were kind. Ellen, Jo, even the other police officers at the station when Sam arrived. A veteran officer named Rufus, an operator named Ash, and a rookie everybody called Alfie were some of the first people Sam met, and they’d all been quick to welcome him.

“Don’t ask for Alfie’s first name,” Jo had warned as she grabbed her keys. “But it’s not like you’re staying long, right?”

“No,” Sam replied. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but I’m just here long enough to pick up my brother and head back home.”

“Yep,” Jo nodded seriously. “And I’m supposed to help you pack up Dean’s stuff and get everything together. I got it, I got it.”

Jo drove Sam to Abbi and Dean’s old home. She talked the entire way, but Sam didn’t mind. He was still absorbing information, figuring out everything that had happened. Jo made it easier with her calming banter, and Sam found himself learning little facts about Dean’s life of the past two years.

“You know, the first time I met him was in a poker game,” Jo grinned at a red light. “We played till three in the morning and let me tell you, we were _wasted_. Dean got on the table and sang in Spanish. Never let that boy tell you he can’t sing. When I saw him again a few days later at the store, he swore up and down he couldn’t speak a word of Spanish. But he was talking to a Harvelle, so he figured out pretty quick that he’d never be able to pull one over me.”

Jo abruptly sighed in the middle of her story and frowned. Sam looked at her, noticing her hesitation.

“What is it?” He asked.

Jo tapped her finger on the steering wheel and pulled into a new lane. “It was that same week I put two and two together about his girlfriend.” When Sam didn’t respond, she continued, “I didn’t know how to approach him about it at first. I’d seen the marks that poker night, his shirt riding up everywhere. But I figured he just could’ve been a rowdy guy. Got into trouble sometimes, you know? But when I saw _them_ in the grocery store together,” Jo hesitated and shook her head, looking sick. “That same time I told him about the Spanish gig, I could see it. The way she stared at him, the way he tried to move away whenever she touched him. It just made too much sense. Then he started showing up at the hospital more and more often. It took my mom forever to convince him to come to us. To come to the police. He just wouldn’t do it.”

Sam stared at the road ahead of them, lost in thought. “What changed his mind?”

Jo shrugged and shook her head. “Emma.”

Before he could ask what she meant by that, Jo suddenly called, “Here we are!” The effort was forced, but Sam didn’t pry. He was too busy staring at the mansion in front of him.

The house was enormous and ominous. The glamour did nothing to disguise the darkness that seemed to loom over the entire property.

It was tall and wide, and a long walkway made its way toward a broad doorway. A well-manicured garden spread out against opposite sides of the property, and large windows stood high against the walls of the house. Even from the driveway Jo pulled into, Sam could catch a glimpse through the open curtains. And from his limited perspective, inside that house was even more elaborate than the outside.

But it didn’t mean much to Sam. This was an evil place. The doctors and the police said Abbi had been abusing his brother for years. Looking at the house where it undoubtedly happened made Sam feel nauseous.

Jo was doing everything in her power not to let the mood depress them. But she wasn’t overly cheery either, which Sam was grateful for.

“You ready?” She asked when she parked. Sam nodded. “Good. Nobody’s cleaned up in there, so it’ll probably be ugly.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. He climbed out of the vehicle after Jo and followed her to the door. He saw police tape marking the doorway. His stomach flipped.

“Abbi died in there.”

“Oh.”

Jo fiddled with her keys for a few minutes before she unlocked the door and batted away the tape. “Don’t touch anything,” she said. He followed her inside quietly.

He was right. Inside was more elaborate than the outside. The furniture and decorations were clearly expensive. None of it felt like a place Dean would live, Sam realized as he examined china dolls on a desk top. All of it was Abbi’s. Sam couldn’t even imagine Dean in a place like this, with its hall arches and expensive paintings.

It was too big, too high and mighty. It made Sam uncomfortable just being in the room, and he was expected to believe that Dean _lived_ here? Dean, who felt most at home elbows deep in engine grease and head banging to rock music? The same Dean who drank straight shots of alcohol and could burp the alphabet? He couldn’t see that same older brother in a place like this, surrounded by art and precious glass figurines. The two images clashed in his mind and only made him more anxious.

He continued to follow Jo through the house, or mansion, and felt himself freeze when they entered the living room.

It was trashed. Destroyed. Sofas were overturned; there were slashes in the paintings and the walls. Blood stains covered the wallpaper and floor. And in the center of the room, next to a crushed coffee table, was an enormous circle of dark _red_.

“Is that…?” Sam asked, unable to finish his question. Jo stared at it as well. Her face was blank and Sam envied her ability to hide her emotions.

“Yeah,” she replied, voice thick. She took a moment and cleared her throat before motioning to the stairs on their right. “Bedroom’s up there. Nursery too. Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

Sam nodded numbly and quickly turned away. He didn’t want to be in this room any longer. “Yeah.”

Together they made their way up the stairs and down the halls. Jo pushed open an oak door toward the end and let Sam in first. “I figured you could go through the master bedroom first. Deal with your brother’s stuff. I can get started on the nursery. That okay?”

Sam looked around. The room was as huge as he expected. There was a king sized bed to his right. Two doors stood to his right as well, one leading to a bathroom and the other to an open closet. A desk was to his left. Files and grading papers sat on top of it. In front of him were two arm chairs in front of a large sweeping window overlooking the front of the property.

Sam stepped toward it and looked at the chairs. There were odd, thin scuff marks on the wooden arms of the chair closest to the desk. Sam pressed his fingers to it and frowned.

“Hey, you listening?” Jo called. Sam looked back at her and nodded.

“This’ll be fine,” he replied. “Do we have boxes? Bags?”

Jo nodded. “Yeah. Dean said there would be a few in the garage. I’ll get ‘em. You start pulling stuff out in the meantime.”

Sam nodded again and she was gone, leaving him to thumb at the odd scratch marks again. The nausea was rising again. It looked like something out of the movies. When someone was handcuffed to a chair.

He tore his gaze away. He had work to do.

Sam started with the closet. Dean hadn’t been lying when he said there wasn’t much to get. So far, all Sam could find was four or five shirts, a few pairs of jeans, two pairs of shoes, one black suit, and two over shirts Sam instantly recognized as a man’s.

He was deciding on whether to go through the bathroom or desk next when his phone began to ring.

“This is Sam Winchester,” he replied, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear as he turned on the bathroom light.

“ _Hey son_ ,” Bobby’s guttural voice came over the line. “ _How’re you holding up?_ ”

Sam sighed in relief at the older man’s voice. The last time he spoke to Bobby was the day before, while Dean was speaking with the doctors. He’d told Bobby about Dean’s condition. About Abbi, about her death, about Emma. Bobby had been relieved that Dean and Emma were alright, but he’d seemed just as shocked as Sam felt. It was too much. Between everything that had happened, for all the years Bobby and Sam had no idea where Dean was or what was going on, it was a surreal experience.

“I’m… okay. I’m doing okay,” Sam replied. He began to go through drawers in the bathroom. Just like in the closet, nearly every item he found belonged to a woman. The most he found that could possibly be Dean’s was his favorite cologne, and a men’s razor and shaving cream.

“They’re coming home with me. Dean and Emma,” Sam added after a moment. “Abbi left nothing to them in her will. I’m at the house now with a friend of Dean’s. We’re getting some stuff and coming home tonight.”

“ _That’s good,_ ” Bobby replied. “ _How’s Dean? Did’ja see him this morning?_ ”

Sam nodded his head and closed a drawer. “I did. He’s grumpy as hell and ready to get out of there. Dean’s never been the type to lay around, you know?”

“ _Always was a restless kid,”_ and Sam could feel the smile behind the words. “ _I look forward ta’ seeing him. Do you need anything?”_

“Yeah. Dean and Emma will be moving in with me until further notice. Do you think you could head over to my place and clean out one of the guest rooms for Dean? I’d really appreciate it.”

“ _You don’t even have to ask, Sam_ ,” Bobby said kindly. “ _I’ll take care of it. But for future reference, teach your dog some manners. The old thing won’t stop jumping me every time I visit to feed ‘im or get the mail for ya.’_ ”

Sam chuckled and nodded, closing the bathroom door behind him and walking to the bed. Jo had found the boxes, and seemed to have come in while Sam was busy in the bathroom. He began to fill the first box as he replied, “I’ll see what I can do. Thanks Bobby.”

“ _No problem son_ ,” Bobby replied. “ _Now get on home with your brother and niece. I got a little girl to spoil._ ”

Sam smiled and thanked Bobby again before hanging up. It was then that Jo entered the room again, this time with sharpies and a box of Emma’s things.

“Damn, is that it?” Jo asked from the doorway, looking at Dean’s things on the bed. Sam nodded tiredly.

“Yeah. How much is there of Emma’s?” Sam asked when she set her things down.

“Easily four or five boxes,” she replied, a stark contrast to what Sam had to pack. “That kid has definitely been spoiled rotten. I think I have most of the stuff sorted. Except for the crib. I doubt Dean’ll want to buy another. Help me take it apart?”

By the time they got the pieces of the crib apart, Sam decided he was never going to have a child. It had been a nightmare figuring out how all the parts went together, and it was worse finding a way to take them apart without breaking them.

“I really hope you’re not the handyman of the family,” Jo grumbled nearly forty minutes later as she duck taped the final box closed.

“I’m not,” Sam replied tightly, stacking the boxes by the door. “That was always Dad and Dean’s thing.”

“Yeah? And what was your thing?” Jo asked.

“Law. Graduated from Stanford two and a half years ago.”

“Damn,” Jo whistled. “Dean wasn’t kidding, then. I guess you’ve got quite a few perks of your own.”

Sam blushed, but before he could say anything, the opening lyrics of ‘ _Ramble On_ ’ belted into the air. Jo raised her eyebrows, but Sam looked down in surprise. That had been the ringtone of Dean’s original phone number. The phone Sam thought was long gone.

“My brother’s favorite song,” he quickly explained before flipping open his ringing cell for the second time that day. “Dean? You still have your old phone?”

“ _Hell yeah?”_ Dean laughed nervously over the receiver. “ _I, uh, I got it back before I… left. Besides, this old hospital is letting me out tonight, so why can’t I have my phone? Nurse Joy also happens to be a very pretty woman_.”

Sam smirked and shook his head. He was still counting his blessings that Dean was recovering so quickly.

When Sam had first walked through that door and saw Dean awake, he thought everything was going to be okay. Dean was alive and okay, so what should he be afraid of? But he wasn’t too late to see the look of fear in his brother’s eyes before Dean had realized it was only him. He also didn’t miss the grating his way his brother spoke, like he was on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sam knew things were far from okay. But he was determined to help his brother get there again.

“Are you telling me you bribed your phone back?” Sam asked as Jo stole his sharpie for the crib box. “You know we’re not sticking around?”

“ _Yeah, she knows it too. Let’s just say the poor lady couldn’t stand seeing a poor, lonely man in pain and missing his little brother’s guts. I got my phone pretty quick._ ”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said. “But, Dean. Is there something you need? Why’d you call?”

There was silence for several moments, and Sam had to check to see if the call was even still going. “Dean?”

“… _The cops just left. Took my statement, about what happened… And I, uh…_ ” He heard Dean take a shaky breath.“ _Just wanted to hear your voice. I guess. Sorry_.” His voice was quiet and cautious. Sam’s heart pounded and he shook his head.

“No, Dean. Don’t apologize. It’s fine. It’s good to hear from you. So they’re still not pressing charges?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Dean chuckled, but the sound was dry and forced. “ _They have all the evidence they need. Said I was only doing what I had to._ ” Dean coughed, then quickly hurried on to add, _“So, uh, things are going okay down there? You finding everything okay?_ ”

“Yeah, we found everything just fine,” Sam replied. “But Dean, there wasn’t a lot. I mean, was there anything else? Like some stash of clothes or any other belongings somewhere else in the house?”

“ _No_ ,” Dean stated. “ _That was it. But um, is the Impala there?_ ”

Shit, the Impala. Sam had completely forgotten it. His brother’s baby, the car he’d been married to since he first laid eyes on it. And Sam had spaced it entirely.

“Wait a sec,’” Sam said and turned back to where Jo was watching him. “Hey, did you see an Impala in the garage? It’d be a classic.”

Jo nodded coolly. “Yeah. But it’s locked tighter than a bank. Unless you know where Abbi was hiding the keys, I’m not sure how much I can help without breaking a few windows.”

“We have the Impala,” Sam replied into the phone. “But we don’t have the keys. You know where they are?”

Sam could’ve sworn he heard Dean sigh in relief. “ _Abbi had the keys stashed somewhere. Probably in the desk. Top drawer. She liked to keep some of her stolen stuff in there._ ”

She had the keys to the Impala? Sam bit the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down and keep silent. Now wasn’t the time to ask.

“I’ll look there. I’ll get them, don’t worry about it.”

“ _Thanks Sammy_. _Be careful, you hear me?_ ”

“Always am,” Sam replied gently. “I’ll talk to you soon.” He hung up the phone and looked at Jo. She straightened to attention. “You wouldn’t happen to have a key to Abbi’s desk, would you?”

“Now _that_ I do have,” she replied.

Thirty minutes later, they were all packed and driving back to the hospital. But this time, they were coming back with two cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked the chapter! If you have time please let me know what you think, and I'll see you guys again at the next update!


	4. The Flood - Katie Melua

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you all SO much for being so patient with me! So here's the next Chapter... an entire week after the last one. I was unable to update Friday due to some other things going on in my life (cough cough graduation prep) but most of that is over now. All that's left is the actual graduation. awesome.
> 
> Anyway, some warnings for this chapter include references to past dub-con (and maybe non-con? dean and abbi were engaged so it was more dub-con than anything else.) but ultimately, i thought it should be fair to mention, I don't write sex scenes. Things will get steamy of course... (i mean come on, steamy destiel? don't we all want that at least a *little*?) 
> 
> But for the most part, no sex. But there are references in this chapter to some explicitly 'not interested' sexy times. 
> 
> All that to say is, I'm sorry for the extended break, but I really hope you like this chapter! Enjoy reading guys!

The Flood – Katie Melua

_Broken people get recycled, and I hope that I will_

_Sometimes we’re thrown off our pathways_

_What I thought was my way home_

_Wasn’t the place I –_

 

Dean hated hospitals. Hated them. Completely, unchangingly. Maybe it had something to do with all his visits in the past? Not just in the past two years alone but in all the years before. Maybe it was because of all the lies that surrounded his memories with them? Maybe it was the constant state of fear that someone would not only see what had happened to him, or understand, but actually _do_ something about it and he’d be unable to stop them.

Even now, after everything was over and Abbi was long gone, Dean couldn’t stop the clenching in his gut or the pointless trembling in his limbs as nurses and doctors filed in and out. With the visit from the police, his anxiety had only increased. He’d called Sam, hoping it would settle his nerves. It had. But it barely lasted ten minutes before he was itching to run away again.

He wanted to see Emma. He wanted to go home. But the only home he knew was gone now, with Abbi. She’d taken what little left he actually had and ripped it away from him. Again. And this time gave it all away to the only people in the world who hated Dean’s guts.

He tried not to dwell on the number of people that would undoubtedly want to come after him. Specific names came to mind, but he pushed them away again. He needed to get out of here. He needed to go home. To his _real_ home. With Sam.

The thought made him smile as the hours ticked on. Even when his anxiety sky rocketed, or whenever he couldn’t sit still for the life of him, thinking about his daughter, Sam, and California kept his fears at bay. Because of what Dean did, he was free from the woman who had been hurting him for years. Because of Sam, Dean now had an escape to true freedom. A freedom he might never have had if he stayed in town.

Sam came back later in the evening in time for Dean to be released. Getting dressed again was hell. But he was used to it by now. He ground his teeth together and forced his way through the pain of pulling on a shirt over his bandages, bending down to fix his boots and laces.

He purposefully kept his gaze away from Sam’s, who would hand him his things one at a time. He knew Sam wanted him to accept help, to stop putting unnecessary strain on himself. But Dean didn’t care. If he couldn’t dress himself, what good was he to anybody? He could take care of himself just fine, no matter how many puppy eyes Sam tried to throw at him.

But after getting through all the release forms and getting his prescriptions, it was all worth it when he finally saw Emma again. He hadn’t realized how much he really needed to see her again, unharmed, and far away from Abbi’s reach.

She was just as beautiful as ever. Her bright green eyes glistened, and the megawatt smile she’d given him when he picked her up was to die for. He’d never been so thankful he was alive to see it.

“She really is beautiful, Dean,” Sam said as they carried the rest of his things out to the impala.  Dean only nodded and held her to his chest, staring as she sucked at her fist.

“Do you want to drive?” Sam asked, already handing the keys over, but Dean shook his head.

“I’ve got Emma,” he grunted in reply.

Dean ignored the way Sam stared as he buckled her into her car seat, and he especially ignored the knowing smile his brother gave before climbing into the driver’s seat. Dean sat in the back. It gave him immediate access to Emma, and made it easier for him to respond in case something was wrong. The thought was ridiculous of course. She was just fine. The worst that could happen to her now was a dirty diaper and spit up.

But having her near was comforting. So Dean remained in the backseat as Sam pulled out onto the road.

They made it through four towns before Sam demanded that they pull over and find a place to stay for the night. “It can’t be good for Emma to sleep in a car seat for so many hours, right?”

Dean huffed an affirmative. When Sam found a cheap enough motel, Dean refused to get out of the car until Sam was back with the keys in his hand. He could see Sam’s questioning looks, but he ignored them. He was getting a little too good at keeping his eyes away from Sam’s. He knew it should have bothered him, but it didn’t. Not enough to change anything, anyway.

He didn’t like motels. Not anymore. The roaring memories of broken doors and deathly screams latched a firm hold in his brain, and even with Sam standing beside him Dean warily kept watch of their surroundings until they were safely in their room.

The room was big enough for two queen sized beds. They weren’t about to set up a crib in the room, (“It’s too much work Dean.”) So Dean set Emma down in the middle of the bed and made a nest for her out of the pillows and blankets. Sam stared until Dean growled, “Need something?”

“No,” Sam quickly averted his gaze and pulled out some night clothes from his suitcase.

Dean only changed when Sam wouldn’t stop watching him. He even lied down next to Emma, far enough outside of her cushioned nest that he wouldn’t fear accidentally rolling over in the night and harming her.

He waited until he could hear Sam’s even breaths in the darkness. Once he was sure he was sleeping, Dean quietly climbed off the bed and moved over to the table. He sat silently for several minutes, just staring at the two beds in front of him.

It didn’t feel real yet, he realized numbly. Even though he knew they’d left everything behind, he could still feel Abbi in the back of his mind, whispering away and trailing her nails over his skin in ways that were _meant_ to be comforting. But instead he shivered and crossed his arms.

The room had to be at least seventy degrees. It was early November already, and the thermostat had to be blasting as much heat as it could into the room. But Dean couldn’t feel it at all. For all it mattered, the AC could have been on and he wouldn’t have been the wiser.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, in the dark, watching over his brother and daughter as they slept. But sooner or later, Emma woke up as she usually did. He got her up before her cries could get loud enough to wake her uncle, and he rummaged through his duffle bag for her diapers and feeding formula. He hoped she wasn’t hungry. He’d been trying to get her off of her nightly feedings for a while now, especially after Abbi stopped seeing their daughter for weeks at a time.

But Emma didn’t seem to care who was feeding her. All she cared about was whether she was hungry or not. Fortunately for them both, it was only a diaper issue, and he resolved the matter quickly. She didn’t cry again, but he didn’t settle her back into bed for another hour. Every time he tried she would only fuss at him until he started rocking her again.

Dean didn’t mind, though. Her small body was warm against his chest, and as long as he held her, the ice in his body lessened. When her tiny face nuzzled into his neck, he decided he didn’t want to let her go anyway. She was a guard against his terrors of the night.

He knew it was backwards. Here he was, rocking her to sleep and comforting her from her own fears and frustrations, when truly, she was the one comforting him. But before long, she finally started to drowse, and Dean was forced to put her back to bed where she belonged. She was asleep almost instantly.

But Dean didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. All he could feel were the ghosts of icy fingertips on his skin and hear the never ending whispers of the dead.

 

With morning brought a tiredness Dean was all too familiar with. Sam noticed almost immediately but Dean didn’t give him a chance to ask.

“Let’s just get back to Cali’ by tonight,” Dean sighed. “Okay?”

Sam stared at him for a long moment. Dean didn’t have to look into his brother’s worried hazel eyes to know that he looked like a wreck. He’d only slept at the hospital while he was drugged. Apart from that, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept longer than a few hours at a time. He hoped Sam wouldn’t ask. Thankfully, he didn’t.

“Okay,” Sam replied finally. “But we’ll have to talk eventually, Dean.”

Dean knew. But that didn’t change his feelings on the matter.

The drive was long. Too long in Dean’s opinion. Emma broke out into wailing twice because she was bored and hungry, but Dean counted it a personal record. He’d thought for sure she’d break down four or five times before even a few hours passed.

But she was a trooper like her daddy. The thought made him smile when they stopped for lunch at the park. Emma loved it and basked in the sun every chance she got.

Dean liked the way the sun lit up her hair. It was like little golden curls, a perfect halo for the perfect angel she was. She would always close her eyes when she looked up, and it made her little face look like she was meditating on something deeply. Never mind she was only six months old. Dean was ready to bet money that the girl would grow up smarter than anyone, including himself.

About four hours in, Sam convinced him to take turns driving. It was like sliding home when he climbed into the driver’s seat. He couldn’t even tell how long it’d been since he last sat in his baby. The last time he even _saw_ the Impala was around the time Emma was born. And even then Abbi refused to let him drive. It was a control thing. Dean knew better than to argue by that point.

Dean instantly turned the radio to a classic rock station and turned it up as loud as Emma’s ears would allow. It took seconds for him to relax again and speed away, going as fast and as far away from his memories as his mind would allow.

They made two more stops before they finally made it back to California. It was well after nightfall by then, but the border sign had been a welcome relief.

“We still have another few hours before we get home,” Sam said quietly from the backseat, but Dean could already hear the question behind it.

“We can make it Sam,” he said, not even casting a glance for fear of the look Sam might be giving him.

“Are you sure? It’ll be around midnight by then, maybe even later.”

“I don’t care. We’ll make it. You wanna’ drive?”

“Yeah.”

They pulled over at a gas station to switch places. Emma was out like a light, and Dean’s body was jealous. He envied her ability to go to sleep without a thought. That she was so innocent that she didn’t even have to fear what hid behind her eyelids in the darkness.

Dean wondered what she dreamed about. If babies even had dreams. He brushed a curl away from her face and leaned back, turning to watch the headlights streaming past the windows. It was hypnotizing, and he soon felt himself drifting off to join his daughter in unconsciousness.

_“Hey sweetie,” a voice whispered behind his ear. Dean roused from his slumber, looking up to see his fiancé walk around to sit beside him at the table. “What are you doing out here so late? You’re usually in bed by now.”_

_Dean smiled sleepily at her, not minding when she pulled him into her arms. He pressed his face into her neck and sighed. She smelled of old leather and textbooks. She also smelled of men’s cologne, but he refused to comment on it. He wasn’t in the mood to fight tonight. He wanted another peaceful night. They were getting to be so rare these days. So far, they were at a personal record of two days of quiet restfulness. Dean wasn’t going to be the one to break it._

_“Emma wouldn’t go to sleep. But I got ‘er. She’s comfy in her bed and shouldn’t be up for another few hours. God willing.”_

_He felt her chuckle more than he heard it. Her nails brushed through his hair and moved down his neck, sliding beneath the collar of his shirt and tracing circles against his skin. “She’s a little devil, isn’t she?”_

_Dean disagreed. Emma was an angel. A little baby angel in training, but a beautiful creature none-the-less. There was no devil in her. None at all. But again he remained silent and let Abbi play with his hair and trace patterns in his skin._

_He felt boneless. He hadn’t slept in days. She knew that. But she didn’t seem to care much either. She only noticed if he said no to sex. And that would only start another fight. He hoped she wasn’t in the mood now._

_“Hey baby,” she said after a moment, pulling back his face in her hands so he would look her in the eyes. She was beautiful. Anyone could see that. But Dean had trouble looking her directly. He would look at her bright red hair, her crimson lips, and try not to think about the real devil that was lurking behind the darkness of her eyes._

_She seemed to sense his hesitation and jerked his chin, forcing him to lock gazes with her. He stopped himself from flinching just in time._

_“You up for some night games?” She asked, a devilish smirk touching her lips. Night games. Sex, what was the difference, really? It wasn’t like he could say no._

_“Enough,” he was able to choke out, unable to actually say yes when all he could think about was how much he wished she hadn’t come home. He wished he could have stayed asleep. Table or not, it wasn’t like he would have time to rest any time else._

_It wasn’t a good enough answer for her, though. She frowned, lines touching her face in ways that Dean knew would only promise trouble. Her nails dug into the skin in the back of his neck. He flinched for real this time, but the grip on his chin was tight and refused to let him go._

_Suddenly, she smiled. His stomach flipped. “That’s alright. You’ll be plenty awake by the time we get to the good stuff.”_

Pain was the last thing he registered before he startled awake. His breathing was coming out in sharp gasps, and all he could see was darkness. White noise filled his ears, and it took several moments before other sounds started to slowly filter in.

Emma was crying. Sam was calling his name. He felt hands on his arms. Dean jumped as reality snapped back into focus.

“Dean!” Sam sounded relieved. “Dean, you with me?”

Dean nodded sharply. He carefully unfolded his arms from around himself and pointedly ignored the trembling in his limbs. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded again.

“Thank God,” Sam muttered. He patted Dean’s shoulder and pulled back. Dean looked where he went and realized they were in a driveway. A two story house loomed over them.

It looked like a simple place. A family home, exactly the kind of place Dean imagined Sam would live someday. A good house, white picket fence, a wife and kid, hell, maybe even a pet. He heard barking and rolled his eyes.

“So you have a dog?” Dean grumbled, but there was no heat behind it. He could live with a dog. But the beast was getting nowhere near his baby. Car or child.

“His name’s Riot.” Sam looked almost embarrassed, like he should have mentioned it sooner. He should have. But Dean didn’t blame Sam for spacing the fact. There was an unhealthy amount of tension between them already.

“Really? _Riot_? I would have expected _Max_ or _Lucky_ , or some kind of shit like that.”

“Nah. That’d be too easy.” Sam was smiling. Dean offered him a weak one in return. His hands still hadn’t stopped shaking since he woke up, but his heart was pounding less. It was an improvement that he could accept.

Emma was still crying, so Dean directed his attention to her. He unbuckled her while Sam moved to the trunk to pull out the boxes he and Jo had stashed there. With the secret compartment, Dean was sure they’d been able to fit everything. It wasn’t like he had much to take back with him. It was Emma’s things he was concerned about. But Sam said they’d saved everything and that was all Dean needed to hear.

Dean pulled Emma out and held her against his chest, climbing out himself before turning to the house.

“So this is your place?” He asked. He wasn’t surprised at all. But it was strange seeing it for real and not just in his fantasies. He’d always hoped Sam had settled down in his absence. Two years was a long time. Sam had clearly made some big changes since his old apartment downtown.

“Yep,” Sam replied as he carried two boxes to the front door. Damn his height and freakishly long arms. Dean could have only carried one if his arms were empty. “I moved here at the beginning of the year. The old apartment wasn’t the same after…”

He trailed off suddenly, a dark look crossing his face. Dean narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment. Not even when Sam dropped the boxes and started fiddling with his keys.

He already knew. He’d gotten Sam’s voicemail from his twenty-fifth birthday. Abbi may have taken his phone, but she still played his messages to him. Mostly when he was in trouble for something he said or did. Dean had been simultaneously glad and disappointed that Sam hadn’t left more messages. Bobby hadn’t disappointed though. He’d heard every message his surrogate father ever sent. He’d never been able to reply, no matter how much he’d wanted to.

But he knew about Jess. He knew everything. What Sam had left out, Bobby was more than happy to fill in.

But Dean remained silent and let Sam open the door. Sam never finished his sentence. Dean didn’t ask.

Inside the house was simple and quaint. The furniture and walls were made up of base colors and simple materials. The living room was like a lounge. There were three sofas, a large coffee table in the middle, and a fireplace against the wall. A TV sat above the mantel where several pictures sat.

Dean walked over and examined them. He recognized one or two people. They’d been in Sam’s graduating class; friends. Gabriel Novak was one of them. In the first photo, a Christmas shot, Sam, Gabe, and a stranger stood together. It was an obvious pose for the photographer, evidenced by Sam and Gabe’s ridiculous expressions.

Gabe still looked like a shrimp next to Sam, and his arm was slung around the stranger. Gabe and the stranger looked nothing alike. While Gabe had shag blond hair, tan skin and whiskey eyes, the man beside him had dark black hair and sharp blue eyes. Gabe was sticking out his tongue and pretending an attempted lick at the stranger’s face. The other man was solemn and intense. It probably had something to do with the tongue next to his ear.

“That was from two Christmas’s ago,” Sam explained when he came back in with another box. Dean hadn’t even noticed he left.

“Yeah, I gathered as much,” Dean replied. “Your hair was actually halfway decent back then.”

“Very funny,” Sam said. “You might remember Gabe from graduation.”

“He stuck a freaking lollipop in my beer. I think I remember the guy,” Dean laughed. Emma fussed in his arms, and he quickly patted her back and started rocking her. “Who’s the other guy?”

“His half-brother. Castiel Novak. They both work in my office. Castiel is my legal secretary.”

“That sounds awful,” Dean grunted.

“He’s good at what he does,” Sam argued, touching the frame for a moment before shaking his head. “You should meet him sometime. I think you’d like him.”

“What about these other weirdo’s in your pics? You hanging with a good crowd, Sammy?” Dean asked as he moved down the row. The last one had a picture of him and five people.

There was Sam, Gabe, the freaky blue eyed ‘Castiel’ guy, a tall bear of a man, a short red head, and Jess. Dean felt something in his gut tighten as he stared at her face. It was strange to think she was gone now. Gone like Abbi. The only difference between the two was that Jess was actually missed.

“They’re good people, Dean,” Sam replied, moving down to look at the same picture. “The other two are Benny Lafitte and Charlie Bradbury. You’d like them too. They both had their own businesses for a while, but then they decided to merge everything together. Benny has his restaurant, Charlie has her bar. Everybody goes there to meet up with friends, take out their favorite dates, or hook up with someone new. It’s a popular place.”

“She single?” The words slipped out on instinct rather than actual intrigue. But it caught Sam by surprise. Dean flinched at the accident and quickly amended, “Not really interested, Sam. Not gonna’ be for a while either.” And it was the truth. He’d be lucky if he ever considered another relationship after Abbi.

Sam nodded slowly and turned back to the photo. “Good, cause she’s not only taken, she plays for the other team.”

Dean smirked at that and nodded to the picture. “Well, if you like ‘em, that’s good enough for me. But you’ll have to introduce me sometime. I don’t care if Bobby likes them or not. I still get a vote here.”

“I’ve known them for years, Dean,” Sam argued, but he was smiling. “I really doubt that one vote would kick them off my friend’s list.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Sure, Dean.”

He only grinned and moved away from the mantel. Boxes were stacked at the base of the stairs.

“So,” he asked. “Where we staying?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Hate it? Thoughts? 
> 
> The next update should be by next Tuesday again. I'm still wrapping up Chapter 5 so if I get it done early, then I get it done early :) In the meantime, mark your calenders for the next update on Tuesday! See you around guys~I hope you liked it.


	5. Breath of Life - Florence + the Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I actually ended up writing Chapter 5 the day I updated C4... So yeah. I spent the past few days touching it up and making it ready for posting and decided to treat you guys to the next chapter a little early :)
> 
> I know some of you are getting ready for some Castiel and Dean action... which is actually coming up this Tuesday! This chapter is going to be kind of an overview of Dean's character and how he's doing now that he's in California and away from his old home and surroundings. So if it seems like a lot doesn't really happen... that's because it's laying the groundwork for some serious changes and interesting things happening with the next update ;) I promise.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my rambling. Here's the chapter! (Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMENTS. you are all so amazing and i'm so grateful that you're all reading it and enjoying it. i hope you continue to like it!)

Breath of Life – Florence + the Machine

_I was looking for a breath of life_

_A little touch of heavenly light_

_But the choirs in my head sang, “No.”_

 

 Dean sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead. He’d only been in California for three days and he was already going out of his mind with boredom and paranoia.

Sam had been determined to stay home the first day, help Dean and Emma get settled in and tell Dean about the area and what Sam’s schedule looked like now. As soon as Dean learned the details of it he forced Sam back to work the very next day. Sam had been resistant, and Dean understood why. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to be responsible for Sam losing time at work, especially when Dean was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

The second day Sam took a half day at work to get caught up on what he missed and take some of his files home with him. “It’s a compromise, Dean,” Sam had said as he made himself comfortable in the living room. “I’m still working. But I just don’t think you should be alone yet.”

“I’m not five, Sam,” Dean growled, but when Emma started fussing a moment later, Dean quickly brought his attention back to her and the toys scattered around her.

Now it was the third day, and Sam still hadn’t gone in to work. Instead he was in his home study, typing furiously away on his laptop and pretending that he wasn’t needed across town. Not here, stuck in his own house with a big brother that would be just fine on his own.

Dean tried not to think about the second day. He’d woken up to Riot barking, and while he knew they were safe and far away from Sioux Falls, it failed to stop him from grabbing the nearest blunt object and storming down the stairs with it. It was only when he saw Sam and Riot getting ready for their morning run that Dean realized he was being ridiculous. The concerned look in Sam’s gaze still had Dean’s skin crawling with anxiety and embarrassment.

Abbi didn’t even _have_ a dog. _Thank God_ , Dean thought often ever since he had to deal with Riot on a daily basis. While the golden retriever was a saint for a dog (aside from the never ending barking), Dean had never had a good history with dogs. As a child they were always growling and snapping at his heels when he took Sammy to school. When he was a teenager he stopped caring, knowing he could fight them off and that they couldn’t hurt him as much as they could’ve when he was little. But after Abbi and her friends? He couldn’t blame himself for losing his nerves.

But Riot was a pretty decent dog, Dean supposed finally. He’d left Emma in the living room on a blanket, surrounded by her toys and hanging mobile. He went to grab some coffee, and when he returned, Riot was lying beside her, huffing and nuzzling her arm whenever she batted her hands at his nose.

Dean refused to say the scene was cute. But it was the first time Dean decided the dog wasn’t half bad.

“We should get you out of the house,” Sam said suddenly. Dean looked up from where he was watching his daughter play. Sam must have finished with whatever work he had planned for the day, because he had a bounce in his step and a light in his eyes that had Dean’s stomach flopping.

“Eh, I’d rather we didn’t,” Dean replied and took a sip from his coffee mug. “Outside is dirty and chaotic and loud. If you want in on that, be my guest. Don’t drag me along.”

He turned to walk away, but Sam blocked him and crossed his arms. “Seriously, Dean. It’s not good for you to stay inside all the time. Besides, we need to go shopping anyway.”

“Get me a pack of beer and call it good,” Dean said. He eyes narrowed when Sam gave him bitch face number two.

“Not that kind of shopping, Dean,” Sam explained tiredly. “You have what, two outfits and a suit? You need clothes Dean. We’re going shopping.”

“What the hell man?” Dean exclaimed. He went to the kitchen and drained his mug in the sink. “There’s no way in hell you’re dragging me to a mall.”

“Fine, we’ll go to thrift stores.”

“Damnit, Sam…”

But Sam was unrepentant. Dean growled and clenched his fists against the counter edge.

“What about Emma?” He asked finally. “You planning on just leaving her here alone while we shop, or whatever the hell you wanna’ call it?”

“Bobby can watch her,” Sam said. Dean’s heart thundered in his chest. His jaw tightened and he looked out the window.

He hadn’t even seen Bobby since they got back. He’d talked to him on the phone his second day in, but it was brief and Dean had been uncomfortable the entire time. Too many memories of listening to Bobby’s angry voice over a speaker made it hard to listen to a suddenly happy-phone Bobby. They’d talked about Bobby coming over to visit, but Dean had felt hesitant. He didn’t want to see anyone yet. He was still settling in, getting comfortable with himself again.

But it couldn’t hurt. Besides, Dean wanted Bobby to see Emma. Something about the thought had him feeling oddly warm and mushy. He snapped out of his thoughts and nodded curtly.

“Fine,” he grunted. “Make the call.”

Sam beamed and instantly ran away to do as he was told. It was fifteen minutes later before the doorbell rang. Dean was closest to answer it. Bobby looked the same as ever, cap and all. He took one look at Dean and broke into the biggest beam Dean had ever seen on the older man.

“Dean!” He exclaimed and opened his arms. Dean pulled him in for a hug, mindful of his injuries, but held him close. He smelled of booze and cigarettes. He smelled like old memories and a home Dean had nearly forgotten about.

“Hey Bobby,” Dean grunted and pulled away before his injuries could protest too much. Thankfully Bobby didn’t mention it and stepped inside.

“So where’s the munchkin?” Bobby asked and looked around.

“Playing with the dog,” Dean rolled his eyes and waved to the living room. He closed the door behind Bobby as his surrogate father wandered in to find the blanket, toys, and girl in question. Riot yipped happily at the sight of Bobby. The older man petted him briefly before turning his full attention to Emma.

Dean’s heart warmed when he saw the look of adoration on Bobby’s face.

“Well, hello there baby-girl,” Bobby cooed, the sound strange and foreign to Dean’s ears, but one Dean wanted to hear more of. “How are you today?”

Emma gurgled and batted her fists at Bobby’s fingers. Bobby chuckled and grinned. He looked up at Dean and nodded firmly.

“She’s a beauty, Dean. Gets her looks from you and Mary already,” he said and stood. Something twisted inside Dean at the comment. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but something sad and deep.

Dean had the same thought when Emma was born. She had the blond curls and the eyes that just screamed of Mary’s beauty. Dean had wanted to name his daughter after his mother, but Abbi wouldn’t have it. He was lucky she even considered letting him pick the middle name, and in a moment of extreme luck and good fortune, he caught her in a good mood and she agreed to the second name. He didn’t like to think about those weeks of fighting to get the choice, but it was well worth it.

Emma Mary Winchester was the most beautiful baby girl in the world. Dean still couldn’t believe she was his.

“Yeah,” Dean choked out finally. “She does.”

Sam entered the room at that moment, holding two coats, one for him and one for Dean. Dean took his and pulled it on carefully.

“So as I understand it,” Bobby continued to look at Sam. “I’m babysitting, right?”

“Just for a few hours, if that’s okay?” Sam replied. Dean cast a wary glance at him. He couldn’t possibly think it’d take _that_ long, did he? God he hoped not.

Bobby nodded and grinned. “Shouldn’t be any trouble. But if you could show me where everything’s at…”

Dean walked Bobby through all of Emma’s things, her usual eating and sleeping times, and only when he was sure he had absolutely everything covered he handed Emma over to Bobby. The little girl looked right in Bobby’s arms.

“She better not grow up and start calling me grandpa,” Bobby grumbled, but he was grinning beneath his bushy beard. Dean swore to make sure Emma grew up with that name on her lips. No one better deserved the position more than Bobby.

Bobby waved them off, but not before touching Dean’s arm and saying softly, “We gonna’ talk later?”

Dean hesitated, but nodded. “Yeah. We’ll talk.” Dean had no idea what they’d talk about. He certainly wasn’t in any mood to talk about Abbi, or how he never returned Bobby and Sam’s phone calls. He doubted he’d ever be ready to talk about it. He just wanted to accept that they happened and move on. No talking necessary.

But it didn’t change the fact that this was all new for them. Dean had already gone through the motions. He was the one who had to live with what happened to him. But he needed to remember that he wasn’t the only one affected. He owed them some kind of explanation. What that explanation included was a mystery to Dean. But he’d have to figure something out, and soon. The Winchester name was not synonymous with patience. It was only a matter of time before he was corralled.

He walked out to the driveway to find Sam staring at the Impala, twirling the keys in his hand nervously.

Dean stopped beside him and stared at him. “What’s up?”

Sam shook his head and bit his lip, looking nervous for a moment before replying, “Uh… Did you want to drive?”

Understanding instantly dawned on him and he frowned. He looked at the Impala and sighed.

The answer was… complicated. Hell yes he wanted to drive her. But the moment he considered getting in the driver’s seat, his limbs seized and it was nearly impossible to move. He didn’t want to be in the driver’s seat and halfway down the highway have some kind of panic attack. Or something equally embarrassing.

But Sam was staring at him expectantly, and Dean knew it’d look weird if he said no. He snatched the keys out of Sam’s hand and got in before his brother could comment. Sam climbed into the passenger’s seat quietly. He had that stupid look on his face. The one bleeding concern and worry everywhere and smothering Dean in the process.

“So,” Dean forced out, locking his hands on the wheel. “Where we headed?”

Sam watched him for a moment before finally looking away. “Downtown. I’ll give you directions as we go.”

Dean nodded and started the car.

The drive was unbearably quiet. The screaming radio did nothing to cover the tension between them. Dean wasn’t sure how much higher he could crank the volume without damaging their eardrums, but he was getting antsy and desperate. He knew Sam had questions. Hell, Sam had questions for the past two and a half years. Dean owed him answers. He just wasn’t sure if he _could_.

He punched the knob and the radio was silenced. The tension came back full force and Dean tried not to flinch against it.

“Say it,” he tried not to growl. “Just say it.”

Sam looked startled. “Say what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Dean exclaimed. “You’re walking around me like I’m some kind of fragile piece of glass. I’m your brother, damnit. Treat me like it.”

They pulled up to a red light, thank God, and Sam bit his lip. “It’s not like that, Dean.”

“Yeah? Then what’s it like?” Dean snapped. “You won’t go to work because of me. You’ve been acting like I can’t even take care of myself. I’m twenty-nine years old, Sam. I’m not a freaking kid! We’re both adults here, so talk to me like one!”

Sam glared at him. “And say what, Dean? That I’m worried about you? That it horrifies me to know what you went through while I had absolutely no way of knowing what happened to you? Would you like me to _talk_ about how much it hurts to know you haven’t slept since we left Sioux Falls? Do you want me to demand why you’re afraid to drive your own _car_? Because I’m not going to!” Sam threw his arms in the air, “I’m not going to ask you a single damn thing until you’re ready to talk about it, because I respect you, Dean. And I want you to get better, and I know something’s wrong. But I’m not going to pressure you if you’ll only get mad at me for worrying—which I’ll never stop.”

Dean stared at him, frozen in place and unable to move. He was vaguely aware that the light had turned green during Sam’s speech, and cars were honking angrily behind him. Several of them were now peeling out around them and jumping them in their lane illegally. But Dean didn’t care. He barely comprehended it.

Sam was watching him worriedly again. “Dean?” He asked softly. “Dean. Are you okay? Look at me.”

Dean tore his gaze away from the windows and looked at Sam directly. “I… I think you should drive,” he replied finally, not trusting himself to talk any more.

Sam looked stricken, but nodded in understanding. They waited for the light to turn red again before they switched places. Sam slid in and pulled the car out, resuming their trip downtown. Dean leaned his head against the passenger seat window and closed his eyes.

His head throbbed painfully, and the rocking glass didn’t help. But it was cool to the touch and he desperately needed the relief.

Sam had hit every nail on the head. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about how he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to talk about how he feared driving because of Abbi’s firm control of every aspect of his life, including his Impala. He didn’t want to talk about all the horrors that came with living with Abbigail Donovan. It wasn’t just the physical abuse, or the mental and emotional abuse. It was everything _else_. He didn’t want to think about it. Ever. And talking about one thing would only lead to another until all was laid bare, and if there was anything Dean feared, it was vulnerability. Something Abbi had happily exploited.

Dean was pulled out of his thoughts at a touch from Sam on his shoulder. “Hey, we’re here.”

He looked up. It was a mall. _Awesome_ , he thought bitterly.

It didn’t take too long, which Dean was grateful for. But it was two hours before they found enough to fill a dresser or a small wardrobe. Sam was happy with Dean’s choices. But all he did was look for his size and decide if he could look at it without his eyes burning out. The choices were simple and easy, just the way Dean liked it.

Dean was stuffing the bags in the backseat when Sam’s phone rang, some God-awful _Law and Order_ ringtone. Sam answered it with a flustered look of embarrassment. Dean rolled his eyes. Leave it to Sam to get a job as a lawyer, and make his damn work ringtoneoff of a justice television show. Nerd.

“Sam Winchester,” his little brother answered officially, closing the backseat door and sliding into the driver’s seat after Dean finished. Dean could hear the mumbled sound of a thundery voice on the other line. Sam nodded along to whatever the voice said, suddenly looking desperate and going through compartments.

“Paper,” Sam finally mouthed. Dean rolled his eyes again and opened the glove box, pulling out a quick pad and paper for his brother to use.

“No, no I got it,” Sam reassured to whoever was on the phone. “My brother found some paper. It’s all good.” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes going wide. “Oh… yeah. He’s here. No, he’s good. He’s good. Just give me the information.”

Dean’s gaze narrowed on the pad of paper Sam was furiously scribbling on. It looked like a random collection of names and numbers. One was underlined several times.

“Shit,” Sam cursed suddenly. “Yeah. I got it. I’ll have everything ready. Can you hold down the fort for me till I get back?”

The thunder voice rumbled something back and Sam nodded. “Awesome. Thanks Castiel, seriously. You’re the best.”

Another rumble, Castiel, the name Dean remembered from the guy in the picture. Sam’s secretary or something. Sam grinned at whatever he said and nodded to the air. “I’ll see what tomorrow looks like. I’ll keep you posted. Thanks again.”

He hung up and sighed heavily. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Castiel?” He said. Sam shook his head and smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah. Apparently his two oldest brothers from another firm are coming down to California for this case we’re working on. It really isn’t such a big deal, but the fact that they’re coming down means they’re going to try and tear us a new one no matter what we do. So… basically it’ll be a big happy reunion for Gabe and Castiel.”

Dean didn’t miss the dripping sarcasm in his brother’s voice, and he couldn’t help the smile that crept up his face.

“Awesome,” he said, but then some of Sam’s words slowly sunk in. “Do they… know about me?”

A sad look crossed Sam’s face and he sighed. “Not a lot. They knew you were missing for a few years, and they know I found you again. They only know that you were engaged and that Abbi’s dead now. They don’t know the circumstances around it. So if you want to come up with a story…”

“Why would I want to come up with a story?” Dean asked, confused. Sam looked guilty.

“I usually go out for drinks with my friends on Friday nights. Castiel was just asking if you wanted to come. You don’t have to, but you were invited.”

Dean stared at him long and hard. He didn’t want to go. He was having a crap time getting settled already, and introducing himself to more people right now sounded like the worst idea of the century. But damnit, Sam looked so _hopeful_. He was almost tempted to say yes. And Sam did say he might like his friends… Maybe he just needed to get over himself. What could one night hurt? Then he could just go back to hiding out at Sam’s until he could get a job and move out of Sam’s house and hair.

“Do you think Bobby’d be willing to babysit again?” Dean asked instead. But Sam saw through the question and grinned.

“Are you kidding? He’d jump at the chance.”

Dean nodded slowly and sighed. “We’ll see how I feel tomorrow,” he said vaguely. Sam smiled regardless and nodded.

“It’s up to you.”

Dean thought about it the rest of the way back, but there wasn’t too much to think about it. He’d go out just this once for Sam. And if he hated it, he’d never do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yayyyyyy dean and cas will meet next chapter! i promise it'll be good. (maybe... *laughs ominously*) 
> 
> anyway, the next update will be Tuesday. thank you all so much for reading, i hope you all liked the latest chapter :)


	6. Neptune - Sleeping at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets out of the house with Sam and attends a dinner party for the firm. While out, Dean meets someone new. (As well as a few others.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! thank you all for being so patient for the update. i had to make some changes to this chapter before i published, so i'll blame that on why i'm updating a little bit later today. but anyway, i hope you all like it! if there are any mistakes, i take full responsibility and apologize. 
> 
> but ultimately, i hope you all enjoy the chapter! it's time dean had a fun break, wouldn't you say? (and isn't it about time he met cas?)

Neptune – Sleeping At Last

_Pitch black, pale blue_

_This wild ocean shakes what’s left of me loose_

_Just to hear me cry mercy_

_The strong wind, at my back_

_So I’ll lift up the only sail that I have_

_This tired white thread_

 

Dean growled and cursed his tie for the thirtieth time in the past hour. He couldn’t get it straight. It was stupid. He’d done hundreds of ties over the years. He could do ties, knots, anything anyone could possibly think of—Dean could do it all. But no. Not this time. This stupid _damn tie_ was going to kill him.

Funny. All the people in the world who’d lined up to see him dead, and this would be the end of him. This damn tie. Dean wondered how mad Sam would get if he shot the fabric to hell. Probably a lot, Dean reasoned as he cursed and started over. Maybe it’d be worth it though.

A twist, a yank. Dean cursed. He started over.

“You almost ready?” Sam called from out in the hall. He sounded close, probably near Dean’s bedroom door. Dean groaned and ripped the tie off. To hell with formal wear. He didn’t care how big and fancy the dinner party was. Business casual worked nearly all the time anyway.

How the hell did he even wind up in this situation? That morning he agreed to go to with Sam for some drinks with friends in the evening. But then it turned out that there was a dinner party the firm was putting on for some big time case they won. When Dean found out about it, Sam explained that it’d be perfectly fine. He’d just come back and pick Dean up and head to the bar.

Like hell Dean was allowing that. He wasn’t _picked up_ for anything. And Sam had a free plus one he wasn’t using. That was that, Dean was going.

He was regretting it now as he unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt and sighed.

“This is stupid,” he said to his reflection. He tugged at the end of his jacket and grimaced at how unbearably _formal_ it all still looked. He was wearing a damn _suit_ for Pete’s sake. He tore off the jacket and threw it on the bed. There was no way in hell he could do this.

“Sam, I’m not going there dressed like one of you lawyer monkeys,” Dean called through the closed door. Sam opened the door in time to see Dean kick off his shoes and throw open the closet doors. “I give up,” Dean grumbled. “I’m not going anywhere tonight. Not like this.”

Sam sighed and stepped in closer. He checked the closet with him and pointed to some of his more casual jackets. “Then go for something more neutral. You don’t have to be formal like the rest of us, Dean. You’re not a lawyer anyway. You’re my plus one. Wear whatever you like.”

“ _Whatever_ I like?” Dean raised an eyebrow and smirked. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t make it messy. Okay?”

“Whatever you want,” Dean groaned but shooed Sam away.

With his mind vaguely cleared up, he was able to locate better options in the recesses of his newly acquired wardrobe. He decided to keep the dress shirt, the only thing worth keeping. The rest was thrown out for dark pressed jeans, a leather jacket, and the nicest pair of boots Dean could find. Who cared if there were still a few clumps of dirt stuck to the edges? No one would care. And if they did, Dean _certainly_ didn’t care.

Dean had been to enough high-end events to know no one would be looking at him anyway. People at these things only cared about the people they belonged to. Outsiders were often ignored. Thank God.

He sighed one last time and looked in the mirror. He didn’t look like a marching penguin, so that was good. And he didn’t look like a walking monstrosity either. He was just gonna’ have to buck up and live with it.

Bobby was rocking a sleeping Emma by the time they left. He and Dean still hadn’t talked, and Dean wasn’t looking forward to it. It was only a matter of time. But for as long as Dean could push it off, he was happy. And Sam was leaving him alone too. For that Dean was grateful. He didn’t realize his brother could be that understanding, but he knew his brother wasn’t patient either. Again, it was only a matter of time. Dean would have to talk sooner or later.

He tried not to think about it on the way to the event.

For the sake of appearances, they left the Impala back in Sam’s garage. They drove up in Sam’s car, some last year’s model that proved Sam was a successful lawyer, but wasn’t new enough that he looked vain in his position. Dean didn’t care for it too much with all its automatic features, but it was comfortable and he could live with it.

When they pulled up to the event building, Sam killed the engine and looked at Dean. There was a slight nervousness to his appearance, but Dean didn’t miss the excited spark in his eyes.

“You ready?” Sam asked. _To meet your coworkers? To go out in public for_ real _for the first time since I got here_? He thought. Yeah. Dean was as ready as he’d ever be.

“Yep,” he replied finally, forcing a beaming grin on his face. It was overly cheery, but Sam bought it and grinned.

“Awesome. Let’s go.”

The moment they stepped through the doors Dean was struck by an immediate sense of familiarity. He could have sworn he’d seen these room layouts once before, but it felt like something from a forgotten dream. The painted walls were off, but everything else looked painfully familiar.

Dean shrugged off the feeling and looked ahead. It probably just looked similar to other event halls he’d gone to Abbi with.

The main room was the biggest and the grandest. There were large groups of people everywhere, all toasting champagne and smiling like plastic dolls as they celebrated whatever big case they’d won.

“All this over one case?” Dean asked as Sam led them to the refreshments bar.

Sam shook his head and grimaced. “It’s also a welcome party for the Novak brothers. They don’t come down to Cali often, but when they do, it’s always best to make a good impression.”

“Hn,” Dean grunted and snatched a glass from Sam’s hand. “It’s not like they’re God.”

“Don’t tell them that,” Sam chuckled and pointed near the end of the table. “Punch is down there. Don’t get the spiked one, we’re saving the real drinking for later.”

“Yeah _ma_ ’,” Dean rolled his eyes with a grin. He travelled a little way’s down, only getting a little before asking, “But wait, what about the champagne everybody’s drinking…?”

There was no answer. Dean looked back to see Sam had disappeared. He was gone.

His heart turned to cement and he felt it drop into his feet. He spun around once, twice, the third time bringing no more luck. He started measuring his breathing and hesitantly walked in the direction Sam had stood just a moment earlier.

He couldn’t have gone far, Dean reasoned. Sam wouldn’t have just left him at the event hall to fend for himself. Something had to have happened to drag him away. Dean shook his head and squinted, carefully watching the faces around him for that crazy mop of hair that could only belong to his brother.

“Sam?” Dean hissed, not wanting to look like the freak drunk guy shouting at a formal event. “Sam!”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he whirled around, knocking it off and stepping back quickly. Blue eyes blinked at him curiously, a hint of concern lighting the stranger’s face.

No, not a stranger, Dean realized suddenly. Cas-something, the guy from the picture. Gabe’s younger step-brother. Sam’s secretary, or from the way Sam talked about him, he could have been an angel. And he didn’t look that far from the mark either.

He had tousled black hair that looked the exact opposite of what came for a formal event. He wore a suit like the other monkeys, or penguins, Dean hadn’t decided. But the man in front of him looked different. Whether it was the backwards tie or the way he seemed to command attention to himself, Dean wasn’t sure. But the man had his attention. For better or worse, depending on whatever he said or did next.

Dean felt his muscles coil like a trapped spring. He wanted to dash away, but this was the only vaguely familiar face he’d seen so far. He planted his feet firmly in the ground and watched the man warily.

“Can I help you?” Dean grunted, going for casualness even if he sounded like a twitchy, homicidal animal.

The man smiled gently at him, rows of white teeth shining. “You’re Sam’s brother, aren’t you? Dean Winchester?”

Dean flinched, but nodded firmly. “Y-Yeah. I’m looking for him, Sam, I mean. You seen him?”

The man nodded and smiled again. “Yes, of course. Come with me, he was probably roped into a debate by the prosecutors. I’m Castiel, by the way.” The man extended his hand and Dean stared at it warily. But he took the man’s hand and shook it firmly.

“Yeah, I figured,” Dean choked out. “Your picture’s in Sam’s house.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but there was a smirk on his face that suggested some long old joke. He motioned for Dean to follow him and said, “I told him to get rid of it.”

Dean grinned hesitantly, still unsure of what the hell was going on, but feeling slightly better now that he had someone beside him. Even if it was some guy Dean had only heard about twice.

“So,” Castiel said as they walked, both their eyes peeled for the missing brother. “Sam mentioned you two are living together now?”

Dean nodded. “It’s temporary,” he grunted. “Just until I can find a new job or place for me and Emma to live.”

“And Emma is your daughter?” Castiel supplied. Dean nodded and Cas smiled. “Ah, that’s good. I have a niece of my own, but I’ve raised her as a daughter since her parents left.”

Dean side eyed the man warily, but Cas’s bright blue gaze was still forward and searching. Deciding the man was probably safer than Dean was giving him credit for, he forced his body to relax and tilted his chin up.

“What’s her name?” Dean asked kindly, the beginnings of a genuine smile touching his face.

Cas grinned. It lit up the man’s entire face like stars. “Claire. She’s almost three now. She’s a very special young lady.”

Dean couldn’t stop the huff of laughter at that. Cas glanced at him in surprise, but Dean raised a hand, “Sorry, I can’t imagine any kid being a little lady at that age. Even my own girl, and she’s pretty close to an angel most days.”

Cas smiled again and shook his head. “I agree. But she likes to think of herself like a lady right now. She made me buy her a wardrobe of dresses for every day of the week.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “And when she’s thirteen she’ll ask for a car, and you’ll say yes?”

A curious glint lit Cas’s eye. Dean stared.

“Hardly,” Cas replied with a smirk. “We have a system. If she wants something, we both have to work for it. For the dresses, she kept her room clean every day of the week, each day for each dress. And if you know Claire, that is not an easy feat.”

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“It can be very helpful,” Cas replied. Suddenly his eyes widened and he nudged Dean in the arm, causing him to stiffen. If Cas noticed, he didn’t point it out. Instead he nodded in a direction ahead of them.

“I believe I found your wayward brother.”

Dean looked up, and sure enough, there Sam stood. His little brother looked immensely uncomfortable, and a short woman seemed determined to hold his attention. She was doing a good job too, keeping her body language sly and subdued, feigning politeness and friendliness to keep Sam firmly planted in front of her. There was no way Sam could walk away without looking rude. Especially with the way she seemed to keep the conversation going.

There were a few other people in the group with them, but they all seemed just as raptured to the young woman as Sam was, unable to escape.

“Sam,” Cas said, officially interrupting the conversation. The young woman’s gaze snapped at him, and Dean didn’t miss the reproach in her eyes. Cas ignored it with practiced ease and set a hand on Sam’s arm. “You’re needed elsewhere. Please follow me.”

Sam looked relieved. He offered a curt goodbye to the group and nearly tripped over himself dashing back to Dean. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and stared at him anxiously. “I am _so_ sorry for leaving you. She just grabbed my arm and suddenly we were on the other side of the room. I really am sorry, Dean.”

Dean shrugged it off. “Hey, she looked hot anyway. I guess there’s a silver lining everywhere.” The comeback was forced and didn’t hold its usual warmth. But Sam recognized it for what it was; forgiveness, permission to move on. He smiled gently.

“Eh, she’s not really my type. But you’re right. She _is_ hot.” Sam turned to Cas, who was watching them amusedly. “Is Gabe anywhere around here? Did you warn him against drinking early?”

Cas sighed. “You know how he is. I stopped trying to keep him away from the refreshments bar an hour ago.”

“And hour ago?!” Sam exclaimed.

Dean wasn’t sure how it happened. But from that point forward, his anxieties finally began to ease.

They found Gabriel by the spiked bowl, and sure enough, he was on his fifth glass. He was still strongly lucid and it was difficult to tell he’d even been drinking at all. But with Sam and Cas both watching him, he was unable to drink anything more for the rest of the event. Afterward, they all drove to _Southern Lights_ , the restaurant and bar Benny Lafitte and Charlie Bradbury owned. Dean got to meet them when they came around the corner to sit with them for a while, the rest of their employees covering the rest of the business.

True to Sam’s word, he liked them all. They were all very different from each other. Charlie and Gabe seemed to be the most enthusiastic of the group, although at times Charlie seemed more level headed than Gabe. Benny, Sam, and Cas all seemed more withdrawn, but Sam smiled nearly the whole time, Benny always looked like he was in the middle of an inside joke, and Cas… Cas kept looking at Dean.

Dean didn’t know what to think about that. They’d ended up sitting next to each other at the table, Cas on his left, Sam on his right. Dean could easily get lost in the conversation, but every once in a while, he’d turn to see Cas’s reaction to a joke or comment, and notice Cas looking away at just that moment. He didn’t know what that meant. But the guy was interesting. Maybe he was even more interesting than all of Sam’s friends combined. All of them were unique, but Cas seemed to be something else entirely.

He was still, always. But Dean could catch the energy in his gaze. It was electric and held everyone’s attention whenever he chose to speak, which wasn’t as often as Dean expected after speaking with him at the event hall. His voice was always low and thunderous, rising and falling in crashes when the conversation turned to something interesting like Charlie’s adventures in LARP-ing or Gabe’s mission to mix up everything he touched. His laugh was either a deep rumbling chuckle or loud and clear like Church bells on a cloudy day. It held Dean’s attention, much like everyone else at the table. Perhaps that was the reason Cas spoke rarely that night.

When they were all grabbing their jackets, half the table properly buzzed, Dean stole one last glance at Cas before they left. Cas smiled back at him, catching his gaze and waving goodbye. Dean, despite himself, found himself waving back. Like a dork.

Dean decided to drive home when Sam fumbled with the keys twice in a row.

“Okay kiddo, get in,” Dean grumbled with a smile, pushing his brother’s head down into the passenger’s seat. Sam laughed but didn’t fight him, not even when Dean got into the driver’s seat and sighed.

“Did you…” Sam hesitated, clearly rethinking his words. “Did you, uh, have fun?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Your friends passed the test, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh, good,” Sam smiled. Dean started the engine, his thoughts drifting back to the table and the group of people he’d just met.

It’d gone better than Dean could have hoped for. But even then, there was something Dean couldn’t put his finger on. That Cas guy. Oddly enough, Dean felt he could see himself becoming friends with him. Cas was weird. There was no doubt about it. But then again, they were all weird. Dean could easily imagine getting to know all of them better in the future.

And if that was terrifying, Dean didn’t want to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like it? love it? hate it? please let me know! i hope you all enjoyed it :) 
> 
> next update should be next tuesday. see you guys then!


	7. Just Breathe - Pearl Jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while. Thank you all for being patient for the next update. I actually had writer's block all of this week and I nearly didn't have it done... But inspiration struck, so here's chapter 7! I hope you all like it :)
> 
> Warnings for some flashbacks and references to past abuse.
> 
> (But don't worry, I promise to make up for it with fluff.)

Just Breathe – Pearl Jam

_Practices all my sins, never gonna let me win, uh-huh_

_Under everything, just another human being, uh-huh_

_I don’t wanna hurt, there’s so much in this world to make me bleed_

_Stay with me, You’re all I see_

 

Dean shuffled awkwardly on his feet. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing here. After going out for drinks with Sam’s friends, Dean had been surprised to get a call the next day from Charlie, inviting him out to an event that weekend she and Benny were hosting. Well, _she_ was hosting, she amended, and proceeded to rope him into an agreement Dean wasn’t even prepared for.

“Trust me Dean, after how much Sam told me about you, I’m _sure_ you’ll love it.”

Dean still wasn’t sure what _it_ was. But she was so excited about it, Dean found himself shakily agreeing and writing down the location and time.

But what he’d failed to do was ask if Sam was available to go with him. He wasn’t, and it was all Dean’s fault. He’d made him go back to work full-time days ago. Dean couldn’t handle him constantly fussing over him and pretending to ‘work’ from home. So he kicked him out. While Dean didn’t regret it, he certainly regretted not touching base with his brother and seeing if he could even rescue Dean from this commitment.

Now that was out the window, and now Dean stood uncomfortably on the front patio of Sam’s house and waited for Bobby to show up. He was lucky Bobby had the weekends off, but he wasn’t stupid. Bobby wouldn’t always be able to babysit. He’d need to start looking into other options.

He heard Bobby’s truck before he saw it. The older man rumbled up into the driveway beside Dean’s Impala and climbed out, waving at Dean with a grin.

“Hey’a son,” Bobby called and climbed up the steps.

“Hey Bobby,” Dean replied. “Emma’s napping in the bedroom, and I’ve got everything else laid out for her in the kitchen if you need it. She should be out for a few hours so I don’t think she’ll be any trouble.”

Bobby nodded and sighed. “Yeah, that munchkin’s pretty good. She’ll be a beauty, I’m sure.”

“I really appreciate this Bobby,” Dean said. “I know you’re busy.”

Bobby gave him and odd look. Dean shuffled uncomfortably and looked to the Impala.

“So, uh, I should be going.”

“Why don’t ya’ have a seat for a second instead?” Bobby motioned to the chairs set out and Dean shivered. “You got a second to talk?”

That was the worst part. He did have a second. If he left right now he’d be too early for whatever Charlie had planned. But he didn’t want to stay here and _talk_ either.

Yet still, Dean shuffled over and sat down. He kept his eyes away from Bobby’s, hoping somehow it would make the conversation easier. It did nothing to erase the tension he felt.

“How you doin’ Dean?” Bobby finally began moments later. Dean stared at his hands in his laps, looked up at the street.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? Well I’m fine too. But you know I ain’t askin’ about _fine_. How are you _really_ doing?”

His fingers tightened around each other and he frowned. He didn’t answer. He didn’t want to. He thought he might be able to with Sam, but that had backfired royally when he realized Sam wasn’t going to kick it out of him. It spiraled him, and now he didn’t know what to say.

He figured it might be because there was too much to say. They were talking about two and half years. He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t even know if it had truly ended yet. He wasn’t sure which of those facts scared him most.

When the silence dredged on too long, Bobby leaned back in his seat and asked, “How ‘bout this. What happened that day you sent in your resignation notice? Back in Lawrence.”

Dean stared at his fists, willing them not to start shaking on him.

“She got a new job in Sioux Falls. It was supposed to get her way more money than she was making already, and she’d already made up her mind to go. The commute was too long so she was going to move. I didn’t want to leave, but she refused to go without me.”

He chanced a glance at Bobby. The older man was watching him quietly, curiously. When Bobby didn’t interrupt, Dean continued, “We were already living together at that point, so I was trying to go for a compromise. Move halfway out, get a nice place that would work for the two of us. I could stay near family, she could get to her job faster, but not as fast as she liked. She, uh… She’d already convinced me I was being a nuisance to Sam, calling him all the time. And she was telling me I was disposable, that you didn’t need me at the garage anyway. I was trying to stick by what I wanted, but… Abbi always gets what she wants.”

He remembered their last fight about it. It had been some God-forsaken hour in the morning, both of them screaming their heads off at each other. She’d grabbed a plate and smashed it on the table. Dean had been startled, just for half a second too long, and she’d slapped him. But her nails had dug into his face, leaving long and thin bloody marks across his temple and cheek.

She’d broken into sobs and took care of it, apologizing over and over how sorry she was and that she didn’t mean to do it. Yet she still immediately followed with, “But I need this job Dean.” Her eyes were big and desperate. “I can’t afford to lose the time it’d take to get to work. Please Dean, I need this.”

Dean wrote his resignation an hour and a half later. He told himself that he’d call Bobby and explain himself better later. That call never happened.

“ _Got_ ,” Bobby said finally. “She got what she wanted. But she doesn’t get her way anymore.”

Dean cringed.

  _A flash of steel. He saw red._

He coughed and stood abruptly. “I should be going.”

“Dean,” Bobby said tiredly, raising a hand. “I’m sorry. But I wanna’ know that you’re doin’ okay here. I’ve seen these kinds of things before. I just don’t want her to follow you into a place that’s meant to bring you safety.”

Dean knew Bobby was trying to be kind. But all he heard was _these kinds of things_ , and he didn’t want to listen any longer.

“I appreciate that Bobby,” he said, and meant it, but continued, “but I gotta’ go.”

Bobby nodded solemnly. “Alright. You have fun. I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Thanks.”

Dean walked away and climbed into the Impala, revving the engine and driving away. He didn’t look back once.

 

The event, as it turned out, was a family oriented charity event—with a medieval theme. Dean raised his eyebrows as he parked his baby and climbed out. There were stands set up to the left that served food, all with the _Southern Lights_ logos across them. Employees that looked like high school students rushed around them, working hard and cooking food for families that were tiring from the festivity. Everywhere else stood tents and games. In the middle of the field was a large ring where children threw bean bags at each other and screamed magical words.

Dean grinned. He took Sam to one of those when they were little. John had left them home alone, and when Dean saw the poster outside the motel they stayed in, he knew they had to go. Sam had collected as many bean bags as he could and tried to be strategical. But by the end of the day, Sam was throwing everything with reckless abandon like the rest of them. They’d never had a chance to go to another, but Dean remembered the event fondly.

“Dean!” He heard his name called. He turned to see a mop of red hair charge toward him. He barely had time to hold up his hands in defense before she pulled him into a hug. His body ached in protest, but he pushed through it and smiled down at her beaming face. “You made it!” She exclaimed.

Dean nodded when she finally pulled away. “Yeah. Figured if I promised, I may as well.”

“Hey, you didn’t bring your kid?” Charlie pouted, looking around his legs like she expected a small child to suddenly appear.

Dean laughed and shook his head. “No. You didn’t tell me what I was coming to! Besides, she’s not even a year old, Charlie.”

“That’s no excuse. You’ll have to bring her next time!”

“Whatever you say…” He hesitated, looking over Charlie’s costume more closely. “Queen.”

Charlie smirked. “Good job, Dean. Now we just gotta’ get a costume for you too.”

“Oh, I don’t know about—“

“Come on!”

Charlie grabbed his hand and dragged him away to the nearest tent labelled ‘ _Armory_.’ Dean tried not to groan too much when Charlie picked out as many different outfits as she could. She managed to go through everything before she finally gave up and gave him a stink eye.

“Do you wanna’ disappoint the kids?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know I was here to impress them.”

“You’re here to have fun with me and the gang! And you can’t do that in your stuffy old plaid. Help a girl out and try this on.”

The materiel she pushed under his nose wasn’t unbearably offensive, so Dean kept his curses to a minimum and walked into the changing room. Sure enough, the clothes she’d given him wasn’t _horrible_ , but it certainly wasn’t the easiest to climb into either. He had to fix it twice before he was able to pull on the shirt without disturbing his bandages, and by the time he was completely finished and looking in the mirror, his arms and sides ached. How the hell he’d been roped into this, he still had no idea. At least he didn’t look _too_ stupid.

“Charlie?” Dean said as he stepped out. He frowned. She was nowhere to be seen. Rolling his eyes, Dean wandered around the large tent of people. Still not finding her, he went outside and looked around.

“Charlie!” He called. Still no answer. He sighed. This was just like the formal event. But this time he came alone, and he wasn’t terrified. He was damn annoyed.

He felt a tug on his fake sword and looked down. A little girl with blonde hair and a braid looked up at him curiously. Her bright blue eyes were narrowed and skeptical.

“What ‘r you?” She asked, tugging on his sword again. “Knight?”

Before Dean could come up with an answer, a voice interrupted, “ _He_ , is my loyal handmaiden!”

Dean closed his eyes, counted to ten, and looked around to see Charlie walking toward him. And she wasn’t alone. Dean felt his heart stop beating. It was Cas, from the formal event. He was still wearing his damn trench coat, and he stood out like an eyesore. Dean wondered if he’d stood out like that before Charlie convinced him to change.

Cas was chuckling, and it was all Dean could do not to glare at Charlie.

“Nah, don’t listen to her,” Dean said and turned to the little girl who was still watching him determinedly. “I’m her best knight!”

“ _And_ a handmaiden,” Charlie added unhelpfully.

“I see you found Claire,” Cas said, and Dean’s eyes widened. Claire, Cas’s niece and adopted daughter, grinned and ran over to Cas, who picked her up and kissed her forehead. “Are you having a good time?”

“Mm…” She said thoughtfully. “Yes!”

“Good,” Cas smiled, then turned to Dean, who was still staring. “Did Charlie rope you into coming too?”

“Hey!” Charlie exclaimed, but Dean laughed.

“You could say that.”

Cas grinned and pointed to the large magic circle where other children her age were throwing their bean bags. “Claire, would you like to join them?”

“Yes!”

“Charlie, could you show her how to play?” Cas asked. Charlie grinned and nodded.

“Heck yeah.”

Once Claire was on the ground, Charlie took the three year old’s hand and walked her over to the circle.

Cas took the opportunity to walk over to Dean and examine his outfit. Dean squirmed under the close scrutiny, but Cas smiled and nodded.

“That costume suits you very well, Dean,” he said.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled. “Wish I could say the same for you.”

Cas barked a laugh. Again, Dean was caught by how pure it sounded, low and clear like bells. He liked the sound a lot, but from his impression at their night out for drinks, he didn’t believe Cas was the kind of guy who laughed a lot. Which was a tragedy, in Dean’s opinion.

“Yes, I do stand out, don’t I?”

“Could always fix that?” Dean raised an eyebrow and grinned. “A certain someone showed me some empty rooms back there.”

Cas squinted at him, but smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Screw wise. Do you think people came here to file their taxing?”

Cas tilted his head, and Dean cursed the universe for making a man like him so naively cute. It was cruel. The poor man didn’t know what he was doing.

“I’m not a tax accountant,” he said finally. Dean punched out a laugh and shook his head.

“Oh my God, Cas,” he grinned. “Doesn’t change the fact that you look like one.”

Cas smirked and looked like he was going to respond, but a high pitched squeal interrupted them.

“Daddy! Come play with me!” Claire came running back from the circle with arms pull of bean bags. “You have ta’ play with me.”

She raised her arms up to Cas, and he knelt down and took a bag experimentally. He glanced up at Dean, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Only if Dean plays too?” He said, raising the bag for Dean to take. Dean blushed, but grinned.

“I didn’t get dressed up for nothing, did I?”

Cas smiled. It lit up his entire face. Dean thought he should smile more like that.

“Good. Claire, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Love it? Hate it? Please let me know! Hope you guys liked it :)
> 
> See you next Tuesday for Chapter 8 :)


	8. Shoot Love - Maroon 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a job working for Bobby again, but with both him and Sam working full time, someone will have to watch Emma. Fortunately, Cas has a few babysitter ideas.
> 
> Dean meets someone who reminds him of Abbi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the late update today. Struggled a lot through this chapter, but I think I just found my momentum. 
> 
> I hope you like Chapter 8! Same warnings for mentions of past domestic abuse. (Nothing graphic, just referenced.)

Shoot Love - Maroon 5

_You gotta' let it go, c_ _ause we're losing grip now_

_It's about to go down_

_Would you let me talk to you?_

_You gotta' let me know, cause we're on the edge now_

_Of a nervous break down_

_Cause I can't get through to you_

 

Dean got a job at Singer Salvage. He knew this was a good thing. He was finally going to be getting out of Sam’s house on a regular basis, finally do something with his itching hands and _live_ a little.

Going to the _Southern Lights_ family charity event had helped Dean relax more than he realized. Charlie and Cas were great. Dean knew he’d been tense, knew that he probably looked awkward and out of place. But they hadn’t said anything. All they did was make him feel welcome. They treated him like a friend even though they barely knew him. To them, he was Sam Winchester’s older brother. Some guy most of them had never met before. But still, they were kind, and they talked with him like they’d known him for years.

Now, a few weeks later, Dean was starting to feel the same.

Charlie was amazing. Every few days she’d stop by the house when Sam was working late at the firm. She’d drop a pie and bag of fast food on the table and tell Dean all about her day, then demand the same from Dean. And with pie in front of him and a smiling, genuine face looking right at him like he was a normal person, Dean found it effortless to do just that.

She was also great with Emma. She brought her toys one weekend, and Emma had gurgled and clung to them like pieces of gold.

“She is so cute,” Charlie beamed. She tapped Emma’s nose and watched as Emma’s face twisted in confusion, then delight. Dean smiled when she laughed.

“Yeah, she is.”

“You know,” Charlie said, holding out the last syllable before finishing, “I could babysit on the weekends? If you ever needed me to?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. You think you could handle this fireball?”

“Oh,” Charlie looked down at Emma skeptically. “Looks like a fire sprite to me.”

And that was how Charlie got babysitting rights on the weekends.

It was around that time that Dean got the job for Bobby.

Dean needed to get out of the house. He loved being near Emma, but there was only so much of staring at the same walls every day that he could take. It reminded him painfully of the days of Abbi.

When they first moved to Sioux Falls, Abbi still let him have a job. Emma wasn’t in the picture, so there was no reason for him to stay at home all day. He made it with a new mechanical job for about six months before Abbi started talking about having Dean drop his job. He didn’t need it, technically. Abbi was making enough for the two of them combined. Dean’s job was unnecessary. But he managed to hold on to it for another six months before Abbi got pregnant.

That was when Dean finally caved and dropped his job officially. He told himself he’d get another job when things calmed down again, but that never happened. Instead he’d been trapped in his own home, his only job to take care of Abbi and make sure the house was ready for the coming baby.

Dean didn’t regret that time, however. He loved Emma endlessly, to a fault. He would have done anything for her. And even then, he still loved Abbi. He genuinely believed he was doing the right thing in staying at home, working on the house, getting Emma’s room ready for her arrival.

And now, another year and a half later, Dean was nearly trapped in a house again. This time, Sam’s home. And while it was infinitely safer, Dean still felt like a caged animal. He needed to get out. He needed to get his hands to work on something. Anything. He couldn’t stand to stay in the house another day longer without doing something substantial.

He almost sobbed in relief when Bobby called with a job opening.

“Didn’t even have to wait for an opening though, if you wanted it,” Bobby said. “This place was never the same without ya.’ Job’s all yours if you want it now.”

Dean didn’t have to think about it. He said yes in a heartbeat.

But now, again, there was the situation with Emma. He couldn’t leave her home alone. Sam was at the firm, and Dean was going to be working at Singer Salvage as soon as the next week started.

His first thought was to call Sam.

“ _Hey,_ ” Sam said, voice bright and pleased. “ _Everything good at the homestead?_ ”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Absolutely. But hey, I need some advice. Bobby just called and offered me a job at the scrap yard. I already said yes,” he said quickly when he heard Sam take a sharp breath. “But do we have a sitter that can take care of Emma? If we’re both working, what’s gonna’ happen to her?”

He tried not to sound too desperate, too afraid of the outcome. The obvious answer was calling Bobby and turning him down until Dean could find someone to watch Emma. But his stupid anxiety was kicking into play. So he bit his tongue and waited for Sam to respond.

“Oh,” Sam said, helpfully. “Yeah. That’s a good point. Um, wait, I think I might know someone with ideas.”

“Who?” Dean asked, but there was no response. He heard shuffling papers and a door opening.

In a muffled tone, he heard Sam speak, “ _Castiel? Do you know the name of any good babysitters?_ ”

Dean heard a muffled, gravelly reply.

“ _No, it’s for Emma. Dean got a job. We don’t know anybody who’s not working who can watch her._ ”

Dean tapped his foot impatiently. He understood why Sam would get the idea to ask Cas. He had a kid of his own, and judging by the hours Sam kept at the firm, it was only natural to assume Cas would work similar hours. So he’d have at least a few names or ideas, or ways they could look for other sitters.

Dean couldn’t help but feel paranoid. He didn’t want Sam to ask _Cas_ , especially not on his behalf. Cas had his own things to worry about, aside from helping his boss’s brother get a babysitter.

He vaguely heard his name being called, and he snapped out of his thoughts. “Yeah? What’s the verdict? Got any names?”

Sam laughed nervously. “ _Actually, an interesting compromise. How do you feel about sharing a babysitter?_ ”

Dean stared at the wall. “What?”

“ _Castiel only knows the one babysitter. It’s his sister, Anna. She watches children for a living, runs her own kind of daycare._ ”

“You think I should put Emma in a daycare?” Dean asked incredulously. It wasn’t a _terrible_ idea. But it wasn’t the first idea that had occurred to him.

“ _A lot of parents do it. Besides, if your job’s like last time, you won’t be working that many hours. You’ll still have lots of time with Emma, but she’ll be taken care of during the day. She’ll even have other kids around her. It’ll be a safe environment. Claire even goes there_.”

Dean’s jaw tightened and he looked up the stairs where Emma was sleeping. It was a pretty good idea. The only reason he could think to say no was his own paranoia and anxiety.

He nodded sharply. “Okay. Sounds good. But I wanna’ check out the place first. See what it looks like.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “ _Of course. It’ll be no problem. I could set up a date with Castiel where we could go over and meet Anna?_ ”

“Yeah, yeah that’ll be great,” Dean said hurriedly. “Ask Cas when would be a good time.”

“ _How soon does work start?_ ” Sam asked. Dean told him.

“ _Okay. I’ll let Cas know_.”

A few minutes later, Dean scribbled down the date and time they’d meet with Cas. They’d meet for lunch at _Southern Lights_ before heading out to Anna’s home. It was only a few miles away from Singer Salvage, and even Dean had to admit it was a good set up. He’d stop by the daycare on his way to work at seven, pick her up on his way home around four.

“We could bring Emma?” Sam said the day before the meeting. Dean shrugged. It was a weekend meeting. There was no reason Charlie couldn’t come and babysit Emma. He knew Charlie wanted too, so he felt bad denying Charlie the chance to watch her.

“No, it’s okay,” Dean said firmly. “I want to meet Anna before I bring Emma over there.”

Sam shrugged and went back to dinner. “Fair enough.”

 

Dean didn’t sleep well that night. His thoughts kept him up for hours, worries about Emma if the daycare turned out to be a good idea, fears of things that might happen while Dean was away. He’d spent the past six months trapped in a house with nothing to do but care for Emma. He thought it was fair that he was anxious about being away for her for the first time, willingly, since his daughter was born.

The last time they’d been separated Dean had a ‘tantrum’ as Ellen put it. That was barely the half of it. If Dean was away from Emma, that only meant he’d done something wrong or she was in danger. He couldn’t be blamed for reacting badly.

And now things were different. He was about to willingly hand Emma over to some woman who watched children for a living, and Dean would walk away, go to work, and do everything in his power not to jump out of his skin and run right back to his daughter.

He tossed and turned in bed for hours before he finally slipped into unconsciousness.

The next morning he was a nervous wreck. He managed to get ready for the day without incident, and he only jumped twice when Riot barked.

Dean kept himself sane till Charlie arrived at twelve. If she sensed his bubbling anxiety, she said nothing and kindly asked him if Emma was playing or napping. Sam let Dean take a few minutes to show Charlie where everything was located (again) and was waiting by the door when they finally returned, this time with Emma in Charlie’s arms.

Emma was beaming and grabbing at Charlie’s hair happily. Dean smiled weakly and tried to remind himself that this was perfectly alright. Dean trusted Charlie. He knew Emma would be just fine without him. His fear was irrational.

But if he took a few extra seconds to pat down Emma’s curls and kiss her forehead, then that was his business. By the time they were in the car, he was ready to call the whole meeting off.

“Why do I even need a job?” Dean suddenly exclaimed as Sam pulled out onto the highway. Sam jumped in surprise and looked over at him.

“You were going stir crazy, remember?” Sam replied carefully. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to get out and do something. Besides, it’s probably not healthy to stay inside all the time. You know?”

Dean didn’t respond, only stared out the window and fought down his nerves.

Sam continued, “Everything will be fine. Charlie loves Emma, and they seem to do really well together. And I’ve met Anna. She’s a really neat person. You’ll probably like her.”

“She’s… Cas’s sister, right?”

Sam shrugged. “Sort of. The Novak family is a big one. Castiel and Gabe are step-brothers, related through their father, and Anna was one of the few kids adopted into the family. There are others too.”

“Any I need to know the names of?” Dean asked, shoulders beginning to relax.

Sam shook his head. “Probably not. A few of them work at separate firms across the country, so I doubt you’d ever meet them. But if it ever comes up, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Silence carried them through for the rest of the drive.

When they arrived Cas was waiting for them. With the blue skies and sunshine, they took their seats on the restaurant patio. Castiel smiled and greeted them. Sam managed to squeeze a brief hug in before they sat. Dean only offered a small handshake, but Cas’s grip was firm and his smile was just as bright for him. Dean felt some of the tension bleed from his body as they sat down.

“So, I heard you were looking for someone to take care of Emma while you work?” Cas asked kindly after the waitress left with their orders. Dean nodded dumbly.

“Y-Yeah,” he replied. “Sam and I are both gonna’ be working, so I can’t leave her alone.”

Cas nodded seriously, but his smile remained present. “Naturally. I promise Anna is very good with children. She’s been watching Claire since she was born.”

“That good huh?” Dean asked, but at Castiel’s firm nod, Dean caught himself beginning to smile.

“Trust me Dean, she’s very good,” he said. His blue eyes sparkled at Dean, and he shivered.

“And Sam, you said you met her?” Dean tore his gaze away before he got lost in the color of Castiel’s eyes.

Sam nodded and smiled. “Yeah. She’s attended some of the firm’s formal events, kind of like the one you came to,” he explained. “She holds herself well, has a strong presence about her. I guess it’s a staple with the Novak clan.” He said this with a knowing smirk in Cas’s direction.

Cas rolled his eyes and took a sip from his water glass. “I wish I could argue with you, but my only proof against that claim is Gabriel.”

“And even he’s a power house of his own,” Sam said, amused.

“What?” Dean asked. “You make it sound like you’re all tyrants or something.”

Cas looked embarrassed and rubbed his finger over the rim of his glass. “Most of them are, unfortunately. But you don’t have to worry about Anna, or Gabriel. They turned out fairly well, considering.”

“Considering?” Dean asked, raised an eyebrow. “You seem to be okay.”

Cas blushed and shook his head. “I… I don’t know about that,” he stammered. “But if you ever meet Michael and Lucifer, I think my words will be more understandable.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and picked up his own glass. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Cas smiled and nodded. Dean wished it was as bright as his smile from the charity event.

They didn’t leave until they’d finished eating. For the sake of saving gas, they all drove up to Anna’s home in Sam’s car. Cas sat in the back on family rule, but Dean didn’t miss the glance between him and his brother. It was probably common for Cas to sit in front, but Dean was silently grateful that he got to keep his passenger seat.

Anna’s home turned out to be nice. It was a little bigger than Sam’s, which didn’t surprise Dean if she ran a popular daycare.

The house had a massive lawn, and Dean could only imagine the space behind the house was bigger. Flowers decorated the edges of the steps leading up to the front door, and Dean couldn’t help but stop to admire them.

He’d been the one to care for the garden at Abbi’s house. He could appreciate the beauty and care that went into the rows that lined this home as well.

“Who did these?” Dean found himself asking as Sam knocked on the door. Cas stepped up so they stood a foot apart and looked down.

“I believe it was Anna,” he replied after a moment. “No one can make flowers bloom during the fall quiet like she does.”

Dean nodded in understanding. “Yeah,” he replied. “They can be a pain in the ass once the cold hits.”

Cas smirked, a hint of amusement sparking in his eye at Dean’s choice of language. Dean tried not to smile back and failed miserably. Instead he turned his attention to the door as it opened.

His heart almost stopped beating. Almost.

She had red hair. _She had red hair_. He tried to tell himself it was stupid. Charlie had red hair. But she was different. Charlie had short hair.

Anna, at least Dean assumed it was her, had long red hair that fell around her shoulders. Just like Sam said, she held herself upright with a power and presence that Dean saw very rarely, the last time being from his fiancé the night he… _she_ died.

Dean’s jaw clenched and he forced his body to go still. He could feel his palms start to sweat, to tremble, as Anna looked at them all squarely. A smile broke out on her face, and Dean was almost instantly calmed.

Abbi had never smiled like that. It was a welcome distraction.

“Castiel!” She exclaimed and pulled the man into a warm hug. Another strong difference. Dean set his shoulders back as she turned to hug Sam as well.

“And Sam,” she said kindly. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, it has,” Sam replied. He motioned to Dean, who immediately stiffened and forced a smile to his face. He hoped it was convincing.

“This is my older brother, Dean. He was hoping to have someone look after his daughter while he works.”

“Oh?” Anna continued to smile. “That’s nice. How old is your daughter?”

Dean had to force the words out of his mouth. _Focus on her smile_ , he told himself as he replied stiffly, “Six months.”

Anna beamed. “That’s wonderful. If she looks anything like you, I’m sure she’s beautiful.”

Dean’s jaw tightened, but kept his smile firmly on his face. “Thank you.”

Anna clapped her hands together and Dean flinched. “So!” She exclaimed. “Would you like to look around? See how things are run around here?”

“If you don’t mind,” Sam said. Dean didn’t miss the worried glance sent his way. He ignored it.

Anna smiled and motioned them all inside.

“Well then, come on in!”

Sam and Cas didn’t hesitate to follow her in. Dean was embarrassed to take a few seconds to process what she said before he found himself cautiously stepping foot inside the household.

The rooms inside were just as beautiful and homely as the outside. The rooms felt warm and cozy, and Dean could easily picture children running around inside that place.

“We don’t watch kids over the weekends,” Anna said, motioning to the obviously childless living room. “It’s just Mondays through Fridays. The latest I watch kids is till about six at night, so I hope your shift ends before then.”

Dean forced himself to nod. “I work till four. It’ll be no problem.”

Anna nodded, pleased. “Great! Here, I’ll show you all the play areas and the kitchen where we eat.”

Dean nodded numbly and followed blindly. He felt a hand touch his shoulder and jumped. Cas stared at him worriedly, and Dean suddenly realized he probably looked pretty bad if even Cas was noticing.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly as Sam and Anna exited the room. Dean shrugged anxiously and quickly stepped away.

“I’ll be fine.”

Cas nodded seriously, but Dean could feel his eyes following him as they went room to room. As far as Dean could tell, it was all perfect. He knew Emma would love it here. There was no doubt in his mind.

But he was painfully aware of his eyes drifting anywhere but Anna’s face, and when he had to, he’d only look at her lips, hoping for a smile that looked nothing like Abbi’s.

He wasn’t sure if he could drop off Emma in her arms every morning before work. But what other options did he have?

“So what do you think?” Anna said. They’d just finished looking at the backyard, which true to Dean’s assumption, was much bigger than the sweeping yard out front.

It was perfect. He knew that. Dean worked his mouth into motion, “It’s great. Emma will love it.”

Anna smiled kindly. “I’m glad. Are there any other questions you have? Any concerns?”

They all looked at him and Dean shrunk under their gazes. “None. I… It’s perfect. I don’t have any problems with it.”

“So you think it’ll work?” Sam asked gently. Dean nodded. It was getting harder to talk without wanting to make a run for the front door.

“Great!” Anna said. She looked relieved, and Dean realized she could have misinterpreted his discomfort for displeasure. It was almost laughable. Dean kept his smile carefully in place and accepted the handshake Anna offered.

“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other in the future! Although, if you could sign some paperwork for me to take care of your child while you work…”

“Whatever you need,” Dean grunted.

Sam and Cas kept him company as he signed the paperwork for Emma to be put in Anna’s daycare. He was grateful for their presence, even though he sensed nothing bad about Anna. But it was reassuring to know he wasn’t alone with red hair, dark eyes, and his nearly imploding thoughts.

Anna waved them off as they left. Dean didn’t look back once.

They dropped off Cas at the restaurant for his car, and the ride pitched into silence yet again.

Sam glanced at him warily.

“You okay?” He asked gently. Dean stared straight ahead.

“Yeah,” he replied simply. Sam didn’t ask again. Dean didn’t elaborate.

He didn’t feel better until he was home again with Emma in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for next chapter: it'll be in Castiel's point of view. Figured it's time for a shake up, am I right? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter. Next update will be next Tuesday. Hope to see you then!


	9. Sights - London Grammar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas wants to get to know Dean more, develop a better friendship with him. But as he continues to think about Dean and his odd behaviors, the more he begins to understand that there's much more to the man than meets the eye. Will it change his mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been awhile. Sorry for the week delay, I was wrapping up finals and graduation. Now, that's finished and I'm finally free! My first day of work starts today, but it's a pretty light load so continue to expect regular updates throughout the summer.
> 
> Thank you! I hope you enjoy the chapter! (Friendly reminder, it's in Cas's POV. Enjoy!)

Sights - London Grammar

_What are you afraid of? I know that you are_

_Keep it in your sights now, don't let it go far_

_What are you afraid of? Making it better_

_Keep it by your side now, whatever the weather_

_Keep it Together, Keep it Together_

 

Castiel twirled the wine glass between his fingers, stared as the white liquid inside whirled. He could feel Anna’s weighted gaze on him but he ignored it. His thoughts were otherwise occupied.

It was Sunday, the day before Dean started his new job. Cas wasn’t sure why it was so important to him, but it was. He’d only met Dean three times, but every time something had struck Cas odd about the man. At first, he blamed it on the man’s attractiveness. That he was just beautiful, and that’s why it caused his mind to short circuit whenever the older Winchester brother was around.

As far as he knew, he hadn’t caused a buffoon of himself. Yet. But he knew there was something else that was eating at him, something else that was rearing it’s ugly head and pushing Cas to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

That had always been his problem. Sticking his nose in other people’s business. He was convinced he was going to fall to his own temptation sooner or later. Especially with the odd behavior of the other man weighing so heavily in his mind.

“If you think any harder the rest of us might start to hear it,” Anna said mildly.

His sister stood by the stove of Castiel’s kitchen. Every Sunday he, Anna, and Gabriel met up for dinner and discussed their lives. They were the only siblings to truly get along, at least for the most part. None of them were willing to give each other up. It brought them together, and it held them through many rough waters of life.

Cas was going through his own rough patch now. Unrelated to Dean of course, but he had the sinking feeling the green eyed man would soon become a part of it if Cas didn’t keep his distance.

“I’m sorry,” Cas stated. He set the glass down on the kitchen island and set his heels against the rungs of the stool he sat on. “I’m distracted tonight.”

Anna hummed in amusement, pulled out a large cooking spoon and spread around the mess of peppers and meat in the skillet. “You’ve been distracted ever since those Winchester boys left my house yesterday. Let me guess, one of them has finally caught your fancy.”

“I don’t understand why you are so set on Sam Winchester,” Cas grumbled. “He’s my friend. Just because I’m gay it doesn’t mean I have a crush on everyone.”

Anna chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. “I know. But he’s the closest guy friend you have. I always kind of hoped something would bud between you. You deserve to be happy, Castiel.”

Cas glowered at her, but it only caused her to laugh harder. She set the spoon down on the counter and turned, wiped her hands on her waist apron and walked to the island.

“So, the older one then?” She asked. She picked up a cherry from the bowl between them and tossed it in her mouth. “Dean, and his daughter Emma.”

When Cas didn’t answer, she let out a whistle. “Wow. Bad, then.”

Cas nodded tiredly. “Something’s different about him. I’m… concerned for him.”

Anna nodded back, her gaze turning serious.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I noticed there was something pretty off with him too. Has Sam mentioned anything?”

Cas picked up his wine glass again and shrugged.

“Dean ran away with his girlfriend two years ago, dropped off the face of the earth. Sam confided in me that it was out of his character to up and run with anyone without telling his brother first. A month or so ago, Sam got a call from Sioux Falls that Dean was in the hospital. The girlfriend he’d run away with, now his fiance, was dead. Dean had sustained severe injuries, and his daughter was unharmed. Sam didn’t share details, but there was certainly a suggestion of foul play.”

Anna nodded. “I won’t say anything to anybody, of course,” she said, “but I gotta’ say, it does sound fishy. How did his fiance die?”

Cas shook his head and took a drink. “Sam didn’t say.”

Anna bit the inside of her cheek and walked back to the stove. Her back was to him when she said quietly, “He’s jumpy. More so than just a guy who’s anxious about dropping his kid off in a new place.”

Cas stared at her, stomach tightening at her silent suggestion.

Anna continued, “He also seemed especially… wary, of me. He wasn’t wary of you, though. I couldn’t figure out why. But…”

But. Cas narrowed his eyes, his unfortunate imagination already putting wires together he knew he shouldn’t be crossing.

And as usual, he spoke before he had time to think and grunted, “You’re suggesting he was abused.”

Anna dropped her spoon and looked at him, her eyes lighting fiercely.

“No,” she said, and Cas stiffened at the steely look in her eye. “I’m telling you.”

Cas swallowed and looked down at his glass, shame coloring his cheeks.

He shouldn’t have spoken. They rarely discussed this kind of thing. It was like a curse, some kind of voodoo that none of them dared speak. Even Gabriel, with all of his colorful words and sharp tongue, never spoke a word relating to physical or emotional harm. They all knew better. They had learned better.

Anna rubbed at her shoulder and looked back to the skillet. Cas flinched, remembered the white scar that marred her skin beneath her shirt. Something given to her by her now ex-husband. The same man who was rotting in jail.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said softly.

Anna sighed. “It’s not your fault. But I’d look after him, if I were you. I’m sure he could use all the friends and support he can get right now.”

Cas nodded solemnly. “I agree,” he replied.

“But don’t do it if you’re just pitying him,” Anna suddenly whirled around, pointing her spoon at Cas’s stunned face. “That’ll just hurt him more than it’ll help him.”

Cas shook his head. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he said gently. “I’ve cared about him since I first met him. I wanted to be his friend before I realized something was wrong. If anything, I only want to know him more.”

Anna raised an eyebrow, but thankfully lowered her spoon.

“Alright,” she said. “I’m okay with that.”

Cas nodded his thanks, but she’d turned her back to him.

The front door suddenly swung open, and Gabriel’s loud voice rang out, “I have arrived! Now where’s the little angel?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Out with a friend for dinner. Someone had to protect her from your weekly bag of sweets.”

“Aw,” Gabriel mocked a hand to his chest, “You wound me, brother. I guess I’ll have to sneak her the goods some other way.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Anna said with a smile, finally turning again.

Cas frowned. It seemed their earlier conversation had been put on hold. He was sure he could live with that. They’d had enough heavy thoughts for one evening.

So, he smiled as well as Gabriel pushed next to Anna and shoved a fork into the stirfry, attempting a taste test before Anna batted his hand away.

Cas watched them banter, and made his decision.

He meant what he said. He wanted to be Dean Winchester’s friend. Physical attraction be damned. He was interesting, no matter what may or may not have happened to him during his two year absence. Cas wanted to know who he was. He just hoped Dean didn’t remain as isolated as he seemed.

…

The next morning Cas brought Claire to Anna’s house. She played with her toy tiara on her head, batted her wand around from her car seat and looked out the window.

“Is today Aun’ Anna day?” Claire asked. Cas looked at her from the rearview mirror and smiled. Claire was watching the outdoors with fixed fascination. She’d probably recognized the block from driving down it all the time.

“It is,” Cas replied, turning on to Anna’s street. “Do you remember Mr. Winchester from the fair? The man who played with us with the toy swords and magic sacks?”

Claire nodded seriously.

“Well, his daughter is going to be at Aunt Anna’s house today.”

Claire’s eyes widened and she beamed. “Yeah?” She asked excitedly, her feet bouncing against the base of her seat. “How ol’ is she?”

Cas smiled at her, then looked ahead and smiled brighter when he spotted a familiar black muscle car coming down the road his way.

“Younger than you,” he replied as he pulled up in front of the yard. “Her name is Emma.”

Claire giggled excitedly when the car came to a stop. Claire was rambling about tea parties as Cas climbed out of the front seat, staring ahead as Dean’s car came to a stop in front of the driveway.

He caught Dean’s gaze and waved. The man inside the car stiffened, then offered a weak smile and wave back. Cas fought back a frown and made his way to the backseat of his car, opening Claire’s door and undoing her seat belt.

He tried not to glance back too much, pay attention to Claire’s plans, but he was taken with the way Dean was doing the exact same with his car, pulling a small infant girl out of the backseat in a baby carrier. He spotted Dean say something to the child, smiling down at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world. Cas quietly hoped he’d get an introduction.

Claire hopped out of the car with her backpack over her shoulders. She beamed up at Cas before her eyes locked on Dean as well. Her eyes immediately lit and she pointed, starting running instantly.

“De!” She squealed.

Cas saw Dean jump in surprise, but smiled when he saw Dean beam at the little girl and lower himself to his knees, carrier and all, to open an arm and accept Claire’s hug.

“Hey munchkin,” Dean said as Cas walked over. “Did you get taller since I last saw you?”

“Nah,” Claire replied with a grin. “I wanted ta’ see your baby!”

Dean nodded, mock seriousness covering his face as he pointed conspiratorially at the carrier. “Okay, but be careful… she’s sleeping. And you don’t want to wake her up, lest she get grumpy!”

“Lest?” Claire asked, but quickly turned her gaze to the baby in the carrier.

It was at this point that Cas finally made it to their sides and looked down with Claire as well.

The baby was beautiful. She had a mess of curls all around her head. Freckles dotted her nose, and the child seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She looked like a resting angel.

He said as much.

Dean’s face colored a light shade of pink. It made his own freckles stand out, making his already bright green eyes shine even lighter.

Cas found it oddly charming.

“Yeah,” Dean said, raising up Emma and the carrier, much to Claire’s disappointment. “She’s an angel for sure. Her mother didn’t think so though--”

Dean suddenly recoiled, his back going straight as he stared at Cas in shock. Cas stared back, unsure what had caused the sudden change.

The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was back. Dean shook his head and offered a small smile.

“Sorry, yeah. I’m not used to talking about her yet. Sorry.”

“Sam told me she passed away,” Cas said, too bluntly, as usual. He tried not to flinch at his mistake. But Dean looked vaguely relieved.

“Yeah,” he replied. “She’s gone.”

Cas motioned to the front door. Claire immediately made a trek for it.

“Shall we?” Cas offered. Dean smiled genuinely and nodded. Cas felt relieved.

“Yeah. Don’t want to be late to work on my first day, right?” Dean said with a wink.

Cas blushed, but replied easily, “Of course.”

Dean chuckled. It rang low and true. Cas loved the sound.

Claire was the one to open the door for them, leading the three of them inside before running off to the playroom where the other children were already set up with games and toys.

“Your kid’s been coming here for years, right?” Dean suddenly said. Cas looked over at him, seeing the anxiousness in his eyes.

“Yes,” Cas replied. “Her father was actually my twin brother, Jimmy. He was the one who first started bringing her here. He and Anna were kindred spirits in many ways. He was the reason Anna decided to open her own daycare.”

Dean set down Emma and the carrier on the floor beside the coffee table. He looked thoughtful when he stood upright, gaze intent on Cas’s.

“I… I don’t meant to intrude or anything, I know Anna’s your sister. But you trust her, right? I mean, you make it sound like your brother was the one who was super close, and Sam mentioned you have a big family… But you trust Anna? Like, really trust her?”

Cas hesitated, but nodded firmly. “I trust her with Claire. I’d trust her with my life if it came down to it. I hope that answers your question.”

Dean looked serious, but nodded. He played with the hem of his plaid overshirt and sighed, looked around the room with a skeptical eye.

“This is the first time I’ve ever let her go to someone else in six months,” Dean said quietly.

Cas nodded. “I understand how it feels,” he replied. “But it’ll be good for the both of you, I think.”

At Dean’s sharp glance, he quickly finished, “I mean, too much dependency on anyone can be unhealthy. It doesn’t leave enough room to be human. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“No,” Dean said suddenly, raised a hand in surrender. “No, you didn’t offend me. I get it, I do. But… first times are always the hardest, I guess.”

Cas smiled and dared to take a chance. He raised his hand and touched Dean’s shoulder. The man flinched slightly, but didn’t pull away. Instead he watched Cas curiously, as though he were trying to figure him out like a puzzle.

“I agree,” Cas said gently, making sure to keep his expression friendly and open. “But we’d never get anywhere in life without a first step.”

He lowered his hand before it could get uncomfortable. He was surprised to see Dean’s expression unwavering, still staring at him like he was some kind of unique specimen. He didn’t seem disturbed at all. Just… surprised.

Cas could only hope his gesture of friendship hadn’t scared Dean away from him forever.

But Dean finally smiled, and he nodded as Anna walked around the bend.

“Thanks Cas,” he said, then turned to Anna. “You’ll take good care of my girl?”

Anna smiled at him gently. “The very best care,” she replied. “Is this Emma?”

Dean hesitated for only a brief second before nodding and ducking down to unbuckle Emma from the carrier.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied. “She’s sleeping right now, but I got all her stuff in the side sling for when she wakes up. Bottle, diapers, the usual stuff…” He glanced up at Anna, then Cas, deciding something in his head before reaching into the sling at the side of the carrier and pulling out a small rattle. “This is her favorite,” Dean explained. “If she gets fussy, this’ll calm her down better than any pacifier will.”

Anna beamed and took it into her hands, beating it once. Cas smiled. It sounded like grains or water rushing through a crevice. It didn’t sound as annoying as most other rattles. Anna also looked stunned, shaking it two more times before looking down at Dean in awe.

Dean blushed under their gazes and shrugged. “Abbi, uh, my fiance… she only let Emma have the best. Even rattles.”

He brushed a blonde curl out from Emma’s face and sighed.

“Um… I should go. Work. Stuff.” He looked flustered as he stood. He glanced between Anna and Cas, offered a brief handshake for Emma’s caretaker, and a shuffled pat on the shoulder for Cas.

“See you guys later. Thanks for everything, really.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Anna said kindly. Cas nodded in agreement.

Dean nodded and smiled. He cast one last look at Emma, then moved toward the door. They got one wave before he disappeared officially.

Cas looked back at Anna and stared. She was still admiring the rattle in her hands.

“Well,” Anna said after a moment. “At least she cared about her baby.”

“That we know of,” Cas replied. Anna nodded seriously, knelt down to look more carefully at the baby.

“She’s very beautiful,” Anna said with a smile. “She looks like her father.”

Cas smiled weakly. “Yes, she does.”

Anna huffed and got back up to her feet, patted Cas on the shoulder Dean had just a moment before. The sensation tingled.

“Well, you should go to work too. The firm is a tough place.”

Cas rolled his eyes, pretended to drag himself to the door. “Though not for too much longer, right?”

Anna laughed and nodded, shoving him playfully when the door opened and he stumbled out.

“Right,” she replied. “My brother, the aspiring writer. Knock them dead, brother.”

“And keep them alive, sister,” Cas smiled back. Anna ran a finger along her throat, causing Cas to laugh. “I mean it!”

“I know, I know,” Anna replied. “When have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” Cas answered with a gentle smile.

A moment of silence passed between them. Cas took a step back and waved.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“You too,” Anna replied, placing her hand on the door. “Take good care of Sam. And his brother.”

“I will,” Cas replied.

And he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Next week we'll go back to Dean's POV. See you Tuesday! And if you have a second, please feel free to comment and let me know what you think! Love hearing from you guys.
> 
> Thank you!


	10. Dog Days Are Over - Florence & The Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes some decisions about whether or not he should talk about what happened during his two years absence. 
> 
> Also, Dean realizes aspects of his feelings and whether or not he's ready to move on from Abbi and his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i promised an update by midnight tonight. and i'm only fifteen minutes past that mark... but hey, i worked hard on it :) (this is what happens when you're on vacation. awesome.)
> 
> anyway, i really hope you like it :)
> 
> also, as far as the song for the chapter is concerned, i changed the she's to he's to make it appropriate to the character needs it's referencing. hope you don't mind :)
> 
> again, hope you like the chapter! enjoy!

_Dog Days Are Over - Florence & The Machine_

_Happiness, hit him like a train on a track_

_Coming towards him, stuck still no turning back_

_He hid around corners and He hid under beds_

_He killed it with kisses and from it he fled_

Dean wasn’t sure how it happened. But little by little, day by day, things started to get better. Maybe Sam was right. Getting out of the house and actually doing something with his hands could do wonders for his attitude. Dean had suspected the same, but after a week of getting engine dirt and grease up to his elbows, putting in new parts and airing old tires, and going home every day with Emma in his arms was doing wonders for Dean’s spirits.

At first he feared he wouldn’t be able to make it. Walking away from Emma, willingly, almost killed him. The last time he had to release Emma from his arms had not been by his own free will. In fact, she’d been torn from his arms as Abbi held him back screaming.

He tried not to think about that time. Or how he probably deserved it anyway.

But now, it was easy. He could drop off Emma every morning, five days a week, and now it’d been a nearly a month and Dean didn’t even flinch when he set her down in Anna’s arms.

Seeing Cas at Anna’s house every morning also helped. He was a calming presence, and Dean felt oddly comforted seeing Claire rush over and ask, “How’s Em-Em?”

The first time Dean heard the nickname, he glanced up at Cas in confusion. Cas had blushed and muttered quietly, “She’s still learning her spelling. Emma has two ‘m’s, and she thinks they both need to be pronounced.”

Dean laughed. From that day forward, he found himself casually whispering ‘Em-Em’ to his daughter whenever he changed her diaper or set her to bed for the night. It was cute. And he found it strangely endearing. He didn’t feel guilty for keeping the child’s nickname.

Cas wasn’t much better. Dean wasn’t blind. He caught the blushes, the coughs he made before speaking sometimes, especially when Dean leaned down on afternoon and asked Claire, “Did you play with Em-Em today?”

Cas had flailed almost immediately. Dean felt guilty for enjoying making Cas flustered. He couldn’t help it though. It was odd, knowing someone was looking at him… like that.

For most of his life, Dean had been constantly aware of how people saw him. He knew the girls thought he was handsome. He knew even some of the boys had been staring hungrily at him back when he participated in sports in high school. And he’d kissed more than his fair share of both.

Cas had that same look in his eyes. Maybe it held something deeper than those teenagers, but it was a look Dean was familiar with.

The only problem with it, was it was the same look Abbi had in the first few days leading up to their relationship. And seeing it now, it almost scared him in a way Dean wasn’t ready for.

He’d been honest when he told Sam that he wasn’t ready for another relationship. Not anytime soon. Abbi had just died. Dean had just reclaimed his freedom. He couldn’t… He wouldn’t, jump back into anything like that. Not now.

But it’d been nearly two months now since he was freed. He felt safe in a way he hadn’t felt in years. And every day that he said hello to Cas, watched their girls together, Dean was finding it harder to remind himself that he wasn’t ready.

Cas was attractive. Anybody with eyes could see that. But Dean… Dean just wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure he could handle that. And knowing the way Cas was looking at him wasn’t helping either.

The only thing that made it easier was how unbearably nice Cas was being about everything. The guy was blunt, a bit socially awkward, for sure. But he was nice, and Dean didn’t feel any pressure to do anything at all when he was around.

It was a welcome change from living with Sam and Bobby’s lingering looks, their suggestive questions and tense silence.

He still hadn’t shared everything. Dean wasn’t sure he ever would. But he was beginning to think, now that things were safer, it might be alright to say something.

Sam and Bobby deserved some answers. Dean was lucky he’d made it so long already. Sam had been busy with work, Bobby couldn’t easily corner him when Dean was always buried beneath the hood of a car. But even Dean knew it couldn’t hold out forever.

Maybe it was time?

Dean pulled out of the engine he’d just finished touching up and grabbed a rag.

“Try that and see how it sounds,” Dean called to Victor, his partner in crime. Victor was one of the co-owners of Singer Salvage, had helped Bobby get the business up and running. He was best with numbers, but half the week, he’d often be out on the floor with the rest of the crew, fixing bolts and tires and whatever else was needed.

Victor keyed the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. Dean whistled long and low and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“Now that sounds like a purr,” Dean grinned.

“I’ll say,” Victor agreed as he climbed out. He closed the door and caught the rag Dean tossed him, wiped it across his neck and looked over the vehicle. “I guess our customer’s gonna’ be happy.”

“He better be!” Dean exclaimed. “For how much work we put into this, I won’t expect anything less.”

“Yeah,” Victor rolled his eyes. “Better not say that to his face.”

“That’s why I’m not the face of this company,” Dean replied easily. “I’ll actually tell them what I think!”

Victor laughed and walked toward the front where the customer sat in the waiting room, oblivious to their discussion.

“Let’s thank God for that, then.”

Dean waved him off as Victor disappeared around the bend. He turned back to the cars and started putting back some of the tools where they belonged.

His eyes drifted to Bobby’s office door, and he briefly flashed back to his earlier thoughts.

He’d have to make a decision. He’d need to decide if he wanted to talk. And the answer to that question lay behind the door he was staring at. The same door that was now opening and Bobby stepping through.

They caught eyes and Bobby smiled.

“Get another one done?” Bobby asked as he shuffled over. Dean nodded and motioned to the beat up subaru they’d just wrapped up. In Dean’s opinion, it was ready to be put out of it’s misery. But they had it running.

“As much as the guy would let me,” Dean replied instead with a small smile. “Honestly I’d rather he told me to scrap it and trade it for something better.”

“Says the man who holds tight to an old ‘67,” Bobby grunted, but his smile was friendly.

“That’s different,” Dean replied firmly.

Bobby rolled his eyes and lifted up the hood to check it over. He nodded, pleased, and turned back to Dean.

“So, the way I figure it, it’s almost close to quit’n time, am I right?”

Dean nodded and grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair and swung it on.

“Unless you got more for me to do?” Dean replied.

Bobby shook his head and crossed his arms. “Nah,” he said, “you did a good job today. Get on back to your baby girl and give her a kiss for me.”

Dean grinned and nodded, patted Bobby on the shoulder and stepped away.

“Thanks Bobby.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

Dean started to walk away. He had no reason to stay, and he was anxious to get back to Emma. But his thoughts from earlier caused his footsteps to hesitate. He glanced back over his shoulder, saw Bobby step away from the vehicle as Victor and the customer came back to get it.

There was probably a better time to talk, Dean thought. But if he really stopped to consider it, Dean wasn’t sure he’d consider talking again if he didn’t do it now.

He stopped and turned around.

“Bobby!” He called, hating the way his voice hitched on the last syllable.

Bobby turned and spotted him, squinted when he noticed the expression on Dean’s face.

“I… I need to talk to you,” Dean said after a short moment. Bobby nodded and motioned to his office. Dean followed quietly until Bobby had the door closed behind them, and they both sat in the armchairs in front of Bobby’s desk.

“What’s on your mind, son?” Bobby asked, grunting as his body reclined. Dean, meanwhile, sat stiffly at the edge of the seat.

He shifted uncomfortably, then asked softly, “Do you… I think, um--”

“Well spit it out, boy. We ain’t got all the hours of the day.”

Dean flinched, but he knew Bobby meant well. It was time to say what needed to be said.

He swallowed, then said a little more firmly, “I think I should talk to someone.” At Bobby’s wide eyed look, he quickly added, “About Abbi. About what… happened.”

Bobby leaned forward slowly and clasped his hands together in front of him. He looked at Dean steadily and replied gently, “You talkin’ about someone you know? Or somethin’ a little more professional?”

Dean shrugged anxiously and played with his fingers.

“Um,” he replied, “I don’t know. Do you… do you think I need professional help?”

Bobby shrugged and grunted, “Only one person can tell that for sure. That’s you, Dean.”

Dean groaned and leaned back in his seat, ran a hand over his face tiredly.

“I don’t know what I need,” he admitted. “I just want to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, or somebody to come knocking and tell me that it’s not really over after all.”

Something strange glinted in Bobby’s eyes. He asked quietly, “Any reason why it might not be over?”

Dean shivered, then shrugged. In his mind, he could remember men in suits coming in and out of the house all the time. People who, in the early days, Dean had thought to work at the university with Abbi. It was only a little over a year later he learned that was anything but the truth.

And the fear that they might want to track him down for killing Abbi? That was real. But Dean had no idea if it was a real possibility or not.

“I don’t know,” he finally replied.

Bobby cursed and leaned back as well.

“Well then,” he replied solemnly, “maybe a professional would be a good idea. But Dean… that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me or Sam either.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean replied. “I just… It’s sensitive. You know?”

“‘Sensitive’s a funny word,” Bobby grumbled. “You think Sam and I haven’t seen things that are a bit too ‘sensitive?’ Hell, you know we’ve all seen things we’d rather forget.”

Dean nodded seriously, but replied, “This is different Bobby. Nobody’s ever seduced you and tore you away from everybody you’ve ever known and loved. Nobody’s ever made you feel like--” He hesitated, took a sharp breath and looked away.

He could feel Bobby’s eyes burning into him when he replied, “Feel like what Dean?”

Dean swallowed.

“Feel like…” _Like you shouldn’t be alive?_ His mind supplied helpfully. _Like you were only ever as good as you gave it in bed? That you’re only good for making other people feel better? Screw you too?_

He sighed and shook his head, ran a hand over his mouth and replied, “I don’t wanna’ feel like I’m still stuck in a room with her breathing down my shoulder.”

Bobby nodded.

“If you like, I got a friend I can call. A real good psychologist who helps with people coping with, well, new realities.”

“What, like PTSD victims?” Dean grumbled.

“More like survivors,” Bobby replied simply. “You wanna try it out?”

Dean hesitated, then nodded. “I think it might be worth it. I just… I really don’t like feeling like this. Waiting to freak out at any second.”

Bobby nodded.

“I’ll make the call. Send you the number when I got it set up.”

Dean smiled weakly. “Thanks Bobby.”

Bobby stood and patted Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t mention it,” he replied kindly. “Now you should get on out there and pick up your baby. I’ll bet she misses you.”

Dean laughed, then stood and followed Bobby out.

“Yeah, I bet.”

But when Dean arrived at Anna’s house, Emma was giggling and chirping as Claire danced dolls around Emma’s feet, singing some Disney song Dean had heard a thousand times when his daughter was first born.

Cas was sitting beside them, brushing a blond doll’s hair seriously, moving the brush slowly like it was some kind of freaking operation. It had Dean smiling genuinely as he closed the front door behind him and sat down in front of him, the girls on either side of him.

“So, how are the princesses today?” Dean asked.

Claire squealed when she saw him, wrapped her arms around his leg in an awkward side hug. Her bright blue eyes looked up at him, lashes beating prettily against her cheeks as she exclaimed, “Em-Em’s a knight! She’s picking a wife!”

“A wife, huh?” Dean asked. He didn’t miss the way Cas’s eyes flicked up to his curiously, probably wondering if Dean was some kind of homophobe about to correct his child.

Instead Dean grinned and picked up a doll with flowing black locks and said, “What about her? Maybe Em-Em likes the dark and mysterious ones?”

Dean smiled as Cas’s eyes sparked in amusement, and possible understanding at Dean’s double meaning. Dean smiled shyly and quickly looked back down, allowing Claire to take the doll and examine it carefully.

“Uh…” Claire sounded skeptical. “But aren’t brownies prettier?” She pointed to the doll with brown hair, and Dean had to hold back a snort of laughter at the word choice.

“Nah,” Dean replied. “Every girl’s pretty. Boy’s too. Just depends on who’s looking.”

Claire looked at him like he was some kind of angel, but Dean rolled his eyes and picked up the brown-headed doll. He handed it to Emma, but she was busy biting off the arm of a plushy dragon.

“What do ya’ think, Em-Em. What’s your taste?”

Emma was pushing eight months now. She still didn’t know enough to understand what they were talking about, but she knew how to pick a toy she liked. Emma looked between the toys in front of her, then looked up at Dean. She gurgled and smacked Dean’s wrist, then happily went back to chewing on her dragon.

Dean laughed.

“Or maybe she likes dragons instead,” he said.

Claire pouted, but nodded her acceptance.

Dean looked up at Cas. He was smiling at Dean, something hiding behind his knowing smirk. It had Dean blushing as he ran his fingers through Emma’s hair.

“Long day at work?” Cas asked after a moment when neither of them moved, listened to their daughters play.

Dean glanced at his watch. He was later than usual. He could only imagine why Cas was still here. But if he had to think about it, he doubted he’d really be that surprised. The thought was oddly warming as he shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah. Some idiot won’t put his old car out to rest. I think this is the third time I’ve seen it come in during the two months I’ve been working there.”

“Wow,” Cas chuckled. “You’d think he’d learn after that, right?”

Dean grinned. “You’d think. The way I’ve heard it, he’s been in at least three other times before I came in. I’m hoping the next time he’ll be ready for a trade in.”

“Maybe upgrade to something as nice as your ride?” Cas asked.

Dean pointed a finger and replied, “No one is deserving of a ride as nice as my baby, and I’m not referring to this beautiful angel right next to me.”

Cas laughed and nodded. “Alright, I suppose I can agree with that. It’s pretty nice.”

“Pretty nice?” Dean asked, incredulous. “She’s brand spanking gorgeous.”

“Hey, watch your language in front of the little ones,” Cas warned, but his tone was teasing and light.

Dean chuckled and pretended to zip his lips. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say Novak. But don’t be surprised when my little girl can talk circles around yours.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised to find either of them on debate teams when their older,” Cas reasoned. “Claire’s already ordering most of her class around. And if Emma’s anything like her father, I’m sure she’ll be very grounded in some of her opinions as well.”

“Are you saying I don’t listen very well?”

Dean grinned when Cas suddenly flushed, arms flailing as he quickly replied, “Ah-no! No, no of course not! I was just saying--”

“Hey, hey,” Dean interrupted, laughing as he pushed Cas’s hands back down. “I know what you meant. Don’t freak out on me, man.”

“Yes, of course,” Cas said, obviously still flustered, but Dean smiled when he began to calm down and shift to make himself more comfortable. “I apologize though. It was insensitive.”

“You and I have very different opinions on the word sensitive, Cas.” Dean picked up a doll from the ground, eager to get to a new conversation. Maybe help Cas relax a little more.

Or… a smirk grew on his lips as he glanced up at Cas mischieviously.

“So, what about you?” Dean asked, held up two dolls for Cas to see. “Brunettes or blondes? Or are you a dragon man yourself?”

Cas blushed fiercely. Dean took it as a win.

“I-I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I’ve found I’m utterly indifferent to, uh, physical preferences.”

“Or orientations?” Dean asked, not at all caring for his possible ‘insensitivity.’

Cas’s blush darkened and he replied slowly, “Or orientations.”

Dean grinned and decided to take pity on the man.

“Awesome,” he replied finally. He looked at the dolls in his hands and pouted at them. “As far me… I gotta’ say black’s a pretty nice color. Deep and all too serious. Need’s a good jump of humor every once in awhile.”

Dean looked up in time to see Cas’s eyes darken in understanding. Dean blushed, realizing he’d just flirted. Again. He really needed to stop doing that.

_Damnit Dean, you know you’re not ready for this._

He quickly set the dolls down and picked up Emma, ignoring the fall in Castiel’s eyes as he did so. He really needed to stop leading Cas on. It wasn’t good for either of them.

“Hey Em-Em, you ready to go?” He asked brightly.

Emma gurgled back at him, suddenly chirping, “Da!”

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. In the corner of his eye, he spotted Cas’s eyebrows rising as well.

“Say that again munchkin?” Dean whispered.

Emma made incoherent chirps in response. Dean sighed and kissed her forehead.

“Yeah, maybe next time,” he muttered.

Cas smiled at him kindly as Dean leaned over to tug the baby carrier over.

“Maybe it’s the beginning of more?” Cas said.

Dean shrugged and strapped Emma in.

“Well, we can hope. I wasn’t expecting any real words for another few months. But hey, I’ll take whatever she gives me.”

Cas chuckled and nodded.

“Well then, let me know if she offers you anything more. It can be very exciting hearing a child’s first words.”

Dean looked at Claire, who was enraptured by her dolls and their dresses.

“When did you get Claire?” Dean asked softly.

Cas shrugged and handed Claire the brush she was looking for.

“Her parents were in a car accident when he was only a few months along. I was listed as her legal guardian should anything happen to them.”

“So you heard her first words,” Dean stated.

Cas nodded, smiled fondly as they watched Claire play.

“Yes. Her first word was ‘no.’ I should have seen it coming.”

“And her second word?” Dean asked with a small smile. He didn’t expect Cas to frown.

“Daddy,” he replied.

Dean felt a small pang in his chest in sympathy. That had to have been hard. Cas mentioned that Claire was his niece; her father was Castiel’s twin brother. Dean could only imagine how that’d hurt.

“What does she call you now? Does she know…?”

Cas smiled, finally, and nodded. “Yes, she knows some of the details. She knows her real parents passed away. But when she turned three, you know what she asked me for her birthday?”

“What?”

“She asked if it was still okay to call me her dad.”

Dean grinned and patted Cas on the shoulder. “Dude, that’s awesome. Seriously, it is.”

“Yes, I know,” Cas said. He fixed the tiara on Claire’s head and looked up.

“But do let me know if she gets that first word figured out. It’s exciting, really. Even if that first word is no.”

“Well, it better not be,” Dean replied stubbornly. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“And that,” Cas declared, “is why your daughter will likely join a debate team later in life.”

“More like become class president,” Dean replied. He picked up the carrier and smiled.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Cas.”

Cas stood as well and raised a hand, “Actually, could you deliver something for me?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you need.”

Cas handed him an envelope. It was simply marked for Sam Winchester.

“This came in just after Sam left for the day. I was hoping you could deliver it to him. It’s about Michael and Lucifer, and the case they came down for. Sam was waiting for it.”

Dean nodded and put it in his bag. “Sure thing. I’ll get it delivered.”

Cas smiled kindly and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned. “I’ll see ya’ Cas.”

The parting was easy and effortless. Dean looked down at the bag and the letter inside, then looked down at Emma, who was clutching her fist at Dean with a smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered down at her. “I’m expecting a full ‘dada’ by the end of the night. Got that kid?”

Emma gurgled in response.

“That’s what I thought,” Dean replied, but he smiled and unlocked his Impala.

Yeah, he could wait. And this time, it was a good kind of waiting.

It was the first time he thought things might turn out okay after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like it? love it maybe? please let me know! thanks for reading, and i'll see you guys with an update next tuesday. like i promised, more destiel moments on the way.


	11. In My Veins - Andrew Belle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry for the chapter delay. things have been crazy at my job and i needed an extra week to sort things out before i could finish up this chapter for you. also, it was about time we shook things up, don't you think? ;)
> 
> this chapter includes some split perspectives, starting with sam and ending with dean. 
> 
> also, warnings for strong references to past abuse, discussions of past abuse, and general angst for dean. sorry :( 
> 
> anyway, i hope you like the chapter! the next update should be back on it's usual schedule for next tuesday. promise!

In My Veins - Andrew Belle

_Nothing goes as planned, Everything will break_

_People say goodbye, In their own special way_

_All that you rely on, And all that you can fake_

_Will leave you in the morning, But find you in the day  
_

 

The weather was stormy when Dean’s first appointment with Tessa, some psychologist Bobby knew, finally rolled around.

Sam was anxious about it. He was more than happy for Dean, relieved that Dean had taken that first step and asked for help. The only thing that truly bothered him, was that he didn’t know the main reason why.

His brother had been abused. He knew that. For over two years, he was practically held captive by a woman who didn’t care if she hurt him. Sam had seen the evidence himself of what she’d done. When the bandages and stitches had finally come off his brother (Sam holding the scissors for the harder parts), Sam had a much closer picture than he’d ever realized.

There was a network of scarring all across his brother’s body. Many of them Sam recognized from their childhood years, running across the country multiple times with their father. But the rest were just as awful.

Sam had to remind himself not to be sick as he pulled the stitches out from his brother’s healing skin. Neither of them talked about it that day, and Sam didn’t feel it was right to mention it since.

And now, Dean was going to see a psychiatrist.

“It’s just to talk about Abbi,” Dean had explained the previous week when Bobby set up the appointment. “Just… I just want to get some things off my chest. Figure some things out. You know?”

No. Sam didn’t know. He wanted to know about what happened to Dean. He wanted to know why he’d been unable to leave, and why he’d been rattled so deeply in the end. If he hadn’t left for Emma in the end, why couldn’t he have left for himself as soon as it started getting bad?

These were all things Sam wanted to know, and Dean refused to speak. The most he’d offered was, ‘It’s sensitive Sammy.’ Or, ‘It’s complicated.’

Complicated his ass. Sam was his brother. He’d gone through hell with his brother multiple times. He understood that this time it was different, but it didn’t change his firm belief that it didn’t have to be. No matter what happened to Dean, Sam was determined to be there for him. And if that included waiting until Dean was ready, then that was something Sam was prepared to do.

He sat on the floor in his office, listening to the rain pelt the windows as he watched Emma and Riot play in front of him. Emma was clapping her hands, beaming excitedly as Riot jumped around the room with a tennis ball in his mouth. Where Riot got it, Sam wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like he played tennis in the winter, let alone February.

But Riot chewed at it, occasionally dropped it, and ran around the room until Emma knocked it away again for him to stumble after.

Sam chuckled at the scene. Emma was approaching a year old, now. She wasn’t crawling yet, but she’d started wiggling more, falling on her tummy and trying to scooch herself forward by sheer will and effort.

She wasn’t quite there yet. But it was amusing to watch her try. It was also fun to see her grab the ball and try to throw it, maybe only tossing it a few feet before the ball was dropped in her lap again.

Sam heard footsteps approaching the office, and soon saw Dean in the doorway. He looked pale, unsure. Sam frowned.

It was his first meeting with the psychiatrist. Sam could understand his nerves.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Sam couldn’t help asking. Dean was staring at Emma and Riot, and his head snapped up when Sam spoke.

“Huh…? Oh, uh, no. I’m good,” Dean quickly reassured, leaning down to help Emma back on her bottom after she fell. He glanced up at Sam, and he could’ve sworn Dean was trying to say something without words.

But Dean forced a smile to his face and patted down Emma’s mess of blonde curls.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean said resolutely. “It should only be an hour meeting anyway. Bobby said I should go early to fill out the paperwork though.”

“Makes sense,” Sam sighed. He offered a small smile of his own, then added, “But if you want me to swing by after--”

“God, Sam,” Dean groaned, rolling his eyes. “Stop mothering me. I know what I’m doing.”

Sam smirked, but it felt weak and fake. He said nothing as Dean pressed a kiss to Emma’s head and stood.

“Do you need anything while I’m out?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged indifferently.

“Could always use more milk and dog food.”

“Not together I hope,” Dean replied. Sam smiled and shook his head.

“No.”

“See you later Sam.”

Sam nodded and watched him go, quietly listening as his footsteps made their way down the stairs and to the main floor.

The storm outside was loud, but Sam could hear the front door closing.

He immediately stood and walked around his desk, still careful to keep an eye on Emma and Riot in the room. He picked up the letter Dean had given him a week before, something he’d been given from Castiel. He frowned and glanced at it carefully.

On the front it simply read, ‘Sam Winchester.’ But the inside had put Sam’s guts in knots.

The letter shouldn’t have been anything special. It was a formality, something Gabriel liked to send Castiel whenever they were paying an expense for a witness to fly in. Lucifer Novak had called in a witness from the south, a man named Crowley Ferguson. He supposedly had insights into Lucifer’s land dispute and ownership rights case.

Castiel had gone over the information before Sam did, checked the references, inputted the information that they were paying for the man’s arrival, then forwarded the information to Sam.

Why he did that, Sam had no idea. Until he checked the reference sheet.

Under the list of previous employers, at the top read in bold, “Abbigail Donovan.” Castiel had circled it in red sharpie, and wrote simply, “Wasn’t this Dean’s fiance?”

Sam swallowed and grabbed his phone, speed-dialing Castiel immediately. His only regret was that he hadn’t called the man sooner.

“Sam?” Castiel’s voice came over the receiver. “It’s a Saturday?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam replied, staring down at the letter in front of him. “I saw your letter a few days ago. I didn’t have a chance to call you about it till now.”

“I see,” Castiel replied simply, waiting.

“Are you free?” Sam asked, glancing over at Emma and Riot, still playing. Emma was on her tummy again, wiggling fiercely across the carpet as Riot lay in front of her, wagging his tail and sniffing her face.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “May I ask what for?”

Sam looked down at his letter and frowned deeply.

“I was hoping you could help me do some research on Crowley Ferguson.”

“Of course,” he replied, tone suddenly serious. “Where would you like to start?”

“His work under Abbigail Donovan.”

Sam swallowed and tightened his grip on his phone. He sincerely hoped this guy was just some employee. Because he was coming to California, and Sam needed to be sure it had nothing to do with Dean.

“Whatever you need, Sam,” was Castiel’s final reply. After that, Sam sat down and put Castiel on speaker phone. They had work to do.

****  
  


Dean glared out the windshield as the rain pelted against it. Just ahead of him he could see the clinic Tessa Night worked at.

Dean sighed and glanced at his watch. He still had forty minutes, but he was anxious as hell and ready to turn around and go right back home. But he couldn’t. He owed it to Bobby who’d gone through the trouble of scheduling this for him. He owed it to Sam and Emma. He needed to do something already. Something other than sitting around and waiting for hell to break loose.

But he was here now, early, and still had to give himself a pep talk to get out of the car, into the pouring rain and blistering wind, and go inside.

Bobby even mentioned he should come in a little early, something about writing out medical information and shit about phobias.

As far as Dean was concerned, he didn’t have phobias. He was simply realistic. Like flying, for instance. Sure, lots of people did it. But it didn’t change the fact that it was millions of people hurtling through the air in a metal tube on flaps.

Yeah, Dean wasn’t interested.

But there were other things too on the list Bobby sent him, things he’d have to be ready to answer or maybe explain. Like past experiences. His reasons for seeking help.

Dean swallowed hard and touched that same list in his pocket. It burned against his thigh, and he had to remind himself to take a breath and not think about it.

“She probably won’t ask ya’ too many details on the first day,” Bobby had tried to reassure him the day before. “It’ll be more like a social visit. A few important questions to get started, but to make sure you’re comfortable.”

Fat chance of that. Dean was already uncomfortable. He took another deep breath and stared up at the clinic. It was time to do this already.

By the time he made it inside the building, he felt wet and irritable. He forced a plastic smile on his face when he said hello to the lady at the desk, and tried not to make any snappy remarks when she asked if he had an appointment.

Dean would hope so. He’d paid in advance, despite Bobby trying to pay for him.

But the lady found his name and handed him a clipboard with a sheet of information to fill out.

The first question? The reason for his appointment.

Dean sighed and took the clipboard to the nearest seat in the room. This was going to take a while.

It was thirty minutes before he filled out both sides of the document. Medical history, a lot. Phobias, not many. History of mental illness or depression? Dean kept it vague.

He handed the document and clipboard back to the lady and watched her disappear with it down the hallway. Dean swallowed and returned to his seat.

He had an idea of how these things worked. The nurse would glance over it, give it to his psychiatrist and let her go over it for ten or twenty minutes, then they’d call him back and pretend that she didn’t know anything about him further than what he was about to tell her.

Dean sighed and played with his fingers, glancing around at the magazines in the room. The sound of the storm outside did nothing to reassure him, or calm his anxiety. It felt like hours before a door to an office opened, and a fairly young woman with short black hair stepped out. She was dressed professionally, and her eyes were sharp as she took in the mostly empty room.

Her gaze landed on him, and Dean stiffened under the weight of it.

“Dean Winchester?” She said calmly, and Dean nodded. “Come on in.”

She smiled, but it did little to make him feel better as he got up and did as she asked.

Inside the office was warm. The walls were soft brown in color, and Dean found himself staring at the layout. There was a desk in the corner, and there were a few good windows so they could see the crazy weather outside.

But it didn’t look like television dramas. There wasn’t some big, long, red couch and a tiny small one for Tessa to sit on, listening to him talk about his childhood.

Instead there were two cream colored arm chairs, both comfortable looking, but not set up so Dean would feel too exposed and vulnerable. There was a long couch set on the other side of the arm chairs, also soft and cream.

Dean raised his eyebrows at it, unable to stop himself from asking nervously, “You’re not gonna’ ask me to lay on the couch, are you?”

Tessa raised an eyebrow at him and smiled in amusement.

“Not unless you want to,” she replied. He could hear the laughter behind it, and Dean immediately felt his body relax.

Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

“Take a seat wherever you like,” she instructed.

Dean immediately moved to the nearest arm chair and sat, smiling when his body sunk into the material. He was right. It was comfortable.

Tessa sat down in the other and grabbed a folder from the case beside it. Dean stared at it, aware that it probably held all the information he just wrote down.

“So, you can call me Tessa,” she began with a smile. “Bobby told me that you’re a relative?”

Dean shrugged, a bloom of warmth settling inside him at the thought.

“Well,” he replied, “we’re about as close as relatives.”

Tessa nodded and smiled. “Bobby’s good people,” she said, opening the folder and pulling out a notepad and document. “I’m happy that you have him.”

Dean nodded, eyes fixed on the items in her lap.

“So…” he said slowly, “are you gonna’ record everything? Or something?”

Tessa smiled slowly and shook her head, leaning back against the chair.

“Not unless you want me to,” she replied. “Some people like their sessions recorded, so they don’t feel like their information is written down or stored somewhere easily found and read. Others don’t like the idea of being recorded. It comes down to your personal preference.”

Dean nodded slowly.

“I… I guess I don’t care,” he replied. Tessa nodded and wrote something down on her notepad.

“How about this?” She replied. “I’ll do both for this session so I can compare my notes later. Then next time you can tell me what you prefer. If you still don’t mind, we’ll continue with both. Is that alright?”

Dean nodded. Tessa smiled.

“Good,” she replied. He pulled out the first document and scanned it over. “So, first of all, I don’t want you to feel like you have to answer anything too deep right away. You don’t have to go into any details that you’re not comfortable with, and you can take all the time you need,” she explained. Her gaze locked with Dean, waiting for him to confirm he was listening.

Once he nodded, she smiled and continued, “But, I’d also like to remind you that anything you say in here is strictly confidential. I won’t tell anyone what you’ve said unless you want me to. Is there anyone you’re comfortable with learning about our discussions?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably and shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied quietly. “Maybe… maybe later.”

Tessa nodded, understanding. “That’s perfectly fine. Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about what you wrote?”

Dean stared at the document in her hands, then nodded silently.

Tessa smiled gently and read over the document for a few moments. It gave Dean time to settle, forcing his body to relax into the armchair until she’d speak.

Once he started to wonder how long it would take, Tessa’s eyes finally narrowed and she circled something on the page.

“You mentioned that you recently left an abusive relationship,” she began. “You listed it under your reasons for the appointment, but left out details.”

“I said it was complicated,” Dean argued, realizing it was childish. Tessa raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“It always is,” she replied with a knowing look that made Dean slightly uncomfortable. “Would you feel comfortable telling me a few things about it?”

“About leaving?” Dean asked, tension starting to return to his muscles. “Or… living with her?”

Tessa circled something in her document and she shrugged. “We can start with how it ended, if that’s easier.”

Dean stared out the window in thought.

He could easily remember the night it all ended. But it was complicated. He didn’t want to think about it, and he certainly didn’t want his first appointment to be full of descriptions of murder. He didn’t want this lady to think he was some kind of homicidal maniac, cause he wasn’t.

Sure, she wasn’t the first person he ever killed. But it’s not like he ever wanted to. Not really.

He thought over the two years, trying to think of something else that would work.

Tessa must have sensed his discomfort when the silence continued to stretch, and she offered kindly, “How did you two meet?”

Dean’s eyes snapped back to hers, surprised.

“What?”

Tessa smiled. “Tell me how you met. What was she like?”

Dean’s mind scrambled. He could remember it alright. But he wasn’t sure what it had to do with anything. She’d been nice back then. She was great. He had no idea what he was getting into.

“She…” he started, mind finally beginning to wrap around the question. “She was beautiful. She was a professor at a university, some hot shot that everybody wanted. I met her when she brought in her car to be fixed up. It was like she took one look at me and saw right through me.”

He sighed and glanced down at his hands, watching as they curled into fists, then loosened.

“She, uh, she kept coming back. Every week, there was supposedly some new problem that was perfectly understandable or self-fixable. It was only after a month that she took me aside and explained she’d been hoping to just see me more, and if I’d be interested in going out sometime.”

“And you said yes?” Tessa asked, not unkindly.

Dean nodded. “Of course I did,” he replied. “She was beautiful. She looked like the sun incarnate. Big, bright, and damn near blinding. And she liked me? An idiot would have said no.”

He flinched, then looked away. “Or a smart guy.”

Tessa said nothing. Dean was grateful. He didn’t need sympathy or someone telling him he was wrong.

He sighed and continued, “We went out for a few months, things were great. There was no reason to think anything was wrong. We had little fights here and there, but really, it was nothing worth thinking about.”

“Until…?” Tessa asked.

Dean swallowed, then nodded.

“Until it wasn’t, yeah,” he finished lamely. “The first time she hit me she said it was an accident. Cut my face with her nails.” He fought down the urge to touch his cheek at the memory, and continued, “I believed her too. But then things just kept… happening. Things neither of us could really explain away. Little… incidents. Then she got a new job offer in Sioux Falls, and she managed to convince me that it would be a good way to start over our relationship, get some things centered and re-evaluated.”

“You said yes?”

“Not at first,” Dean replied softly. “We fought about it a lot. I didn’t want to give up my job, and it was too far away to move without leaving. Abbi refused to compromise halfway, and she… she made me believe that no one would care if I left.”

Tessa hummed in understanding, frowning when Dean didn’t continue.

“So you moved to Sioux Falls.”

Dean nodded. “Got a new job. I managed to hold onto it for a year before she got pregnant with Emma. Then I had to drop it so I could get the house ready, and then take care of the baby after she was born.”

Tessa wrote something down on her notepad and looked up at him curiously.

“Were you still in contact with family at the time?”

Dean shook his head and shuddered.

“No. Abbi had someone send in my job resignation. Once we moved, it was like there was nothing holding her back anymore. She took my phone and didn’t let me take any messages from Sam or Bobby. If…” He hesitated, glanced at Tessa, then away. “If I was being especially difficult she’d play the messages they were leaving for me. Most of them were pretty pissed, so it wasn’t exactly awesome for me.”

“It was her way of making you feel guilty for something out of your control,” Tessa said, and the statement caught Dean off guard.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

Tessa jotted something down on her notepad and looked up, expression thoughtful.

“It’s not uncommon. Whether you realized it or not, she was trying to manipulate you through your guilt. You were already feeling guilty for leaving and not talking to the people who cared about you, and she amplified it.”

“What, like make me feel bad enough that I’d never go back?” Dean asked. “I’d been away so long, never called them back, that I’d be ashamed of returning? Make me stay with her longer?”

Tessa stared at him.

“Would you say that’s what happened to you?”

Dean hesitated, hating the way his heart constricted in his chest. He nodded slowly and leaned back in his chair.

“I was afraid of leaving,” he admitted quietly. “Not just because Sam would be pissed I left so long, never even called. But Abbi… she had friends. She had people she knew that could find me. I was terrified of what she’d do to me if I tried to leave at all.”

Something lit Tessa’s eye, and she frowned deeply.

“You said she was a professor at a university?”

Dean nodded.

“She left that job about a year after we moved.” He scoffed, “I think her job was a cover, mostly. She was good at it, don’t get me wrong. But she did a lot of other things too.”

Tessa wrote something down and crossed her legs, looking thoughtful again.

“What other things?” She asked.

Dean stared at the floor. Where did he begin? There was the sketchy business with the guys in suits, the constant talk of trades and shipments. It reminded him of his time undercover in Alastair’s gang. Whatever Abbi had been up to, he was sure it wasn’t legal. It only fed his fears of being tracked if he left.

And then, of course, it happened.

Dean closed his eyes against the memory. It was one of the few times in his life with Abbi that he refused to think about.

He wasn’t going to talk about it.

Tessa waited for him to continue talking, but when he didn’t, she frowned and scribbled something down on her notepad.

“You’ve shared a lot with me today,” she said finally. “I want to thank you for your honesty, and for everything you were able to share so far.”

Dean started to scoff, but she raised a hand and continued, “We don’t have as much time as I’d like to go over everything you’ve mentioned so far. But I think we have a lot to work with here. You mentioned some strong points and fears that you’ve experienced, as well as a few details of what your girlfriend did to you. If you like, we could schedule another appointment and talk more about what you’ve mentioned so far, as well as talk about anything else you’ve been thinking about. Does that sound alright?”

Dean nodded tiredly.

“You’re not going to give me drugs or anything, are you?” He asked.

Tessa chuckled and shook her head. “No, I’m not going to give you any drugs,” she replied. “But I’d like to use our remaining time to maybe discuss some of the details you already mentioned today. Is that also alright?”

Dean nodded. Tessa smiled.

She asked easy questions at first, things like the injuries he sustained, the hospital visits they included and Dean had to write down in his document. Things like deep scratches on his face or shoulders, an incident with thrown scissors, concussions from pots or a book thrown too hard at his head. There were other things too, scarier things that Dean squirmed constantly through answering.

She also asked about his sleeping patterns, how well he was sleeping (he wasn’t), and if he ever had flashbacks or nightmares of his time with Abbi (he did).

But when it was over, Dean did feel a little bit better knowing at least one other person knew about what he went through specifically. He still felt raw, scratched thin and vulnerable after sharing. But Tessa was quiet and calm, kind and thoughtful as he shared, never pushing him farther than he was completely ready.

By the time the clock came close to the hour, Tessa had a page full of notes and a small smile on her face.

“You did great today, Dean,” she said kindly. “I really do appreciate your honesty. It’s not easy to talk about the things you’ve shared today.”

Dean shrugged and played with a strand on his shirt.

“When should I come back?” He asked.

Tessa tapped her pen against her notepad in thought.

“We could do this weekly, every other week, or monthly. It really depends on your schedule and what you’re comfortable with.”

There was also payment, but Dean was glad she didn’t mention it.

“I… I can do twice a month,” Dean replied after some brief number crunching in his head.

“Excellent,” Tessa smiled. “That should give me some extra time to go over what we’ve discussed, and then we can decide what to do from here.”

“Such as?” Dean asked.

“Such as treatment options,” Tessa replied. “We can continue to talk through what happened, the different details of your experience so  you might better come to terms with what happened to you and how you can cope with it from here. And if you ever feel it’s necessary, we could also talk about medication if your stress and anxiety don’t go away. But what’s most important is that you continue to talk about what happened to you. Not just with me, but with your family as well.”

“It’s complicated,” Dean argued. “I don’t want them getting angry over things that are already over.”

Tessa sighed. “If they get angry, it’s not because of anything you ever said or did, or even didn’t do. They’re your family, and they love you. It’s up to you if you ever share, but you should be aware that full healing is hard to achieve if you don’t let your family help and support you.”

Dean stared at the floor and nodded.

“I understand,” he replied finally.

“Would you like to set a date now?”

“Sure.”

They set up the next appointment for the end of the month, just three weeks away. Tessa then put all of her things away and stood with him, reaching out to shake his hand.

“I’ll see you in three weeks, Dean,” she said with a smile.

Dean smiled back easily and shook her hand. “Yeah. Thanks for, well, putting up with me. I guess.”

“It’s not putting up with you,” Tessa said sharply, giving him a firm look that made Dean flush. “I’m here to help. I’m glad that you took the first step to ask for it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean mumbled, but smiled again as she led him to the door. “I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Tessa replied.

Dean stepped outside and glanced out the windows, wondering if the rain had let up, but then his eyes caught something else.

The rain was still pouring hard, hitting the windows like icy missiles, but there was someone sitting in the seat just in front of the window.

Dean felt his blood run cold as the man stood and smiled at him.

“Fancy meeting you here, Winchester,” Crowley drawled. Dean stared.

“I think it’s a little over time that you and I caught up on a few things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dramatic music*
> 
> hope you liked the chapter! i thought it was time to shake things up... as you could probably tell by that ending. anyway, i hope you liked it, please leave a comment if you have some time. we're going to go a little more in depth with dean's past with the next few chapters. (bonus points if cas gets involved somehow... yeah?? *hides behind a desk*)
> 
> see you guys next tuesday!


	12. Below My Feet - Mumford and Sons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! finally updated. sorry for the big cliffhanger last week, but i couldn't help myself. the next chapter or two will be kind of drawn out from this chapter, but please bear with me.
> 
> deepest apologies, prepare for lots of dean!whump, angst, and hurt/comfort. 
> 
> warnings for this chapter: panic attacks, flashbacks, mild violence, threats of violence.

Below My Feet - Mumford and Sons

_You were cold as the blood through your bones_

_And the light which led us from our chosen homes_

_Well I was lost_

_And now I sleep, sleep the hours and that I can't weep_

_When all I knew was steeped in blackened holes_

_I was lost_

 

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair, staring at the computer in front of him. After Emma had started to fall asleep on the floor, Sam had been forced to take a break and put her to bed in her crib. When he returned to his office, Cas was on speaker phone, and they still had made little progress.

He glared at the monitor and rested his chin against his folded hands.

Crowley Ferguson was nearly impossible to learn about. All they could find on the man was that he was some kind of contractor who had at least some kind of hand in everything. If you could think of anything, Crowley Ferguson had probably dabbled in it somewhere.

But when they looked up his name related to Abbigail Donovan, there had been virtually nothing to find. All Sam could find was old articles on Professor Donovan, incredible teacher and entrepreneur. There was nothing Sam hadn’t already read before when he was looking for Dean, back when he was missing. But if she ever knew Crowley, it seemed there were no virtual trails for them to follow.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Sam grumbled. “You’d think if Lucifer was calling in a witness who listed Abbi as his reference, we’d be able to find something to prove it. You know?”

“It is odd,” Castiel replied over the speaker. “I’m surprised no one checked before we did. These things are usually flagged if it’s related to the case.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward to stare at the letter on his desk. “Unless… it wasn’t related to the case?”

“What are you suggesting, Sam?” Castiel asked, tone cautious.

Sam licked his lips and picked up the reference sheet once more, staring at the highlight around Abbigail’s name.

“I don’t know. But don’t you think it’s a little weird that this dude who used to work for Abbi is suddenly in town?”

“It’s unusual, yes,” Castiel agreed quietly. “But it could be a coincidence.”

“Do you think it could be?” Sam asked.

“I think all we can do is hope for now. Where is Dean? You could always ask him if he remembers the name.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “I just didn’t want to freak him out if it was nothing. You know?”

“Yes,” Cas replied, “but I think--”

Suddenly, the phone vibrated, cutting off whatever Castiel was about to say next. Sam’s eyes narrowed and he leaned over to check the screen. There was an incoming call from Dean.

“What was that?” Castiel’s voice broke through the buzzing.

“Uh, Cas, you’re going to have to hold on a second. Dean’s calling me.”

“I’ll be here,” Castiel replied simply.

“Thanks man,” Sam smiled. He put the call on hold and answered the second number.

“Dean?” Sam asked, “How’d the appointment go?”

“...Is this Dean Winchester’s brother, Sam?” An unfamiliar female voice asked.

Sam felt his heart stop.

“Y-Yeah,” he replied slowly. “Where’s Dean?”

“There was an incident at the clinic today. We need you to come down immediately, if possible. Please.”

Sam swallowed hard and nodded shakily. “O-Of course. Uh, can you tell me what happened?”

“A man came in and attempted to make Dean to leave with him. When your brother refused, two men came in and attempted to remove him by force.”

Sam heard the sound of voices in the background, then an abrupt scream that sent ice through Sam’s veins. Dean.

“S-Sir, we really need you to come down. Dean’s been asking for you. He won’t let anyone near him.”

Sam stood and stared out the window. The storm was still blowing outside, but his thoughts were bleaker than the world just outside his door.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops.”

“Thank you sir,” the female said, relief clear in her tone. “Do you need directions?”

“No. I got it. Just give me a minute.”

He hung up, jumping in surprise when Castiel’s voice came back on the line.

“How is Dean?” His friend asked, and Sam felt like falling back in his seat. He was convinced he never wanted to move again.

But he remained standing and grabbed his coat, rushing down the hall to Emma’s room.

“Is it okay if I drop Emma off at your place?” Sam replied instead, tucking his phone between his shoulder and cheek as he pulled on the overcoat. He stepped in Emma’s room and looked down at the sleeping child.

He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Of course,” Castiel replied, suddenly worried. “Sam… is Dean alright?”

Sam hesitated, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes against his raging emotions.

“No. No, he’s not,” he replied. He knelt down to pick up Emma, who thankfully remained sleeping. “I… I just really need you to watch Emma for an hour or two. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Castiel reassured. “I’m your friend Sam. Dean’s too. Go help your brother, and let me know what’s going on when things calm down.”

“Thanks Cas. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

…

_“I think it’s a little over time you and I caught up on a few things.”_

_Dean felt his heart double time as a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. He stepped back, careful to keep his gaze locked on the man, or demon, directly in front of him. Without looking, he already knew no one was in the waiting room. The secretary from earlier was missing, and there were no other patients in the area. There was only Crowley and Dean._

_He felt his stomach tighten. He thought he might throw up._

_“What are you doing here,” Dean asked, ashamed of how quiet and subdued his voice sounded. But he couldn’t help it. He took another step back, quickly analyzing escape options. He could run back into Tessa’s office, beg her to call the police as he hid from the man outside._

_But this was Crowley. Wherever he went, his minions were sure to follow. They would break down the door in no time, probably hurt Tessa to get to him--_

_Images sprang unbidden to his mind._

Pounding boots. Doors splintering. Dean being dragged out of a motel room screaming while the manager lay still on the floor by the door.

_Dean grabbed his head with his hand and dared a glance backward. He would get lost if he ran. He’d be found quickly._

_The front door was blocked. He wanted to scream._

_“I just wanted a chat,” Crowley continued, smiling as he stepped closer, polished shoes clacking against the grey waiting room floor._

_“Sure,” Dean spat, hiding his fear behind a hiss. “Chat like old times, right?”_

_“Oh no,” Crowley shook his head, feigning embarrassment. “This will be much more civil. Well, civil as long as you follow me peacefully.”_

_“Go to hell,” Dean growled, fist tightening in his hair as his head pounded harder. “Just go!”_

_Crowley frowned. Dean felt his gut drop like lead._

_“Unfortunately,” Crowley stated, “That’s not an acceptable answer.”_

_The door to the clinic suddenly opened, and Dean’s eyes widened. Two large men stepped inside, eyes dark and faces grim._

Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me _\--Dean tried to step back again, but gasped when his back collided with the wall behind the secretary’s desk._

_“Now Dean,” Crowley chided, “don’t make this difficult like last time.”_

The motel. It was called Red Sparrow. The place reeked of blood.

_“I won’t go,” Dean tried to growl. It sounded more like a whimper. Someone better shoot him out of his misery. Now._

_The men took a step forward and Dean felt his legs freeze beneath him. His breaths came out in short gasps. He felt like was going to suffocate._

_This was it. They were going to kill him for killing Abbi. They’d found him. He was dead. He was going to die._

_The men parted to come around both sides of the desk, trapping him in place. One grabbed his arms before he could throw a punch, effectively throwing him off balance for the other to pull his feet out from underneath him._

_Dean screamed, lashing out and fighting against their grips as they carried him toward the door._

_“Let me go!” He shouted, managing to punch one in the jaw. The man grunted, dropping Dean’s arms. His head hit the floor, and his vision whitened. He gasped, tried to kick the man holding his legs. But his grip was too strong, and seconds later the other had his arms locked behind him._

_His thoughts immediately flashed to Emma, to Sam and Cas, to the rest of their friends. They were going to have no idea what happened to him. Emma was going to be an orphan. Sam was going to lose him for real._

_Dean shut his eyes, hating himself when a tear leaked out and down his cheek._

_“Get him in the trunk,” Crowley ordered. The men began moving again, but were cut short by the sound of a gun cocking._

_Dean dared to open his eyes, then stared incredulously._

_“Put. Him. Down,” Tessa said sternly, a gun leveled directly for Crowley’s head. “Or I swear I’m going to paint this room red.”_

_Crowley also looked surprised. Dean stared at him, waiting for him to pull out some extra trick. A third guard? A bomb planted somewhere? Dean had no idea._

_But it was the last thing he expected when Crowley waved his hand, and the men dropped him to the floor. Dean gasped in shock, wincing as his head and back burned in pain. His arms and legs were sore, but he forced them under his body and got to his feet. He stumbled back behind the desk, completely out of sight, and listened as Tessa continued calmly._

_“Get out of my clinic,” she ordered. “And if I ever see your faces again, I guarantee my face will be the last one you see.”_

_Crowley stared at her, smirking, as if proud. But he snapped his fingers and motioned to the door._

_“Let’s go boys,” he said. Dean heard the sound of the door open, the wind and rain rushing in to join them._

_“Lovely meeting you,” Crowley said, and then the door was closed._

_Dean collapsed against the wall and stared, unseeing, even when Tessa ran back to him to check him over._

_“Are you okay?” She asked._

_Dean couldn’t answer. He didn’t answer. He wrapped his arms around himself and buried his face in his knees._

_“Call Sam,” he whispered, and then he forgot everything else._

…

Sam was drenched through to his bones when he broke through the clinic doors, eyes wild and phone pressed to his ear.

After dropping off Emma, he’d made quick work of calling Bobby, letting him in on the information. To say his ear was bleeding from the resulting two minute swearing and promises to get his ass ready for visitors was an understatement.

Sam’s head was pounding with a migraine as he dropped his cell into his pocket and looked around, surprised by the number of people huddled around behind the desk.

A head popped out, a young woman with black hair and dark eyes. She stood and hurried over to him.

“Sam Winchester?” She asked. Sam could hear the stress in her voice. He also recognized it from his earlier phone call.

Sam nodded anxiously and watched her sigh in relief.

“Thank God. He wasn’t injured, but he’s shaken up. We’ve taken care of the worst of it, but he’s been asking for you.”

“The worst of it?” Sam asked, allowing her to lead him back to the desk.

“He’s experiencing an intense panic attack,” she explained tiredly. “He’s talked occasionally, but he either asked for you or told us not to ‘take him back.’”

Sam’s eyes widened when he saw his brother.

Dean was crouched against the wall behind the desk, head in his hands, face buried against his knees. He was trembling, and a large blanket had been settled across his back.

He shot a questioning look at the woman, and she frowned deeply.

“We tried breathing exercises for a while,” she explained. “It worked for a while, but the blanket helped calm him down. Trust me. It was worse before you got here.”

Sam didn’t want to think about that. He knelt down beside Dean, mindful of the few other clinic workers closeby, and leaned down to make himself level with Dean’s head.

“Dean?” Sam asked softly, “Can you hear me?”

The trembling didn’t stop, but Dean’s shoulders hunched, and Dean’s head slowly started to rise. His eyes were red and bloodshot, tear stains leaking down his face.

“S-Sammy?” He asked, fists tightening on the blanket around his shoulders.

His voice was strained, hesitant. Sam’s heart tightened painfully in his chest.

“It’s me Dean,” Sam reassured. “I’m here. Can I touch you?”

Dean flinched and pulled back when Sam raised his hand. Sam’s jaw tightened, ready to pull away, when Dean suddenly looked down and nodded.

Sam glanced back at the others, and the woman with black hair nodded.

With permission, Sam reached out and touched Dean’s shoulder. Dean showed no sign of feeling it, but didn’t fight when Sam pulled him into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay Dean,” Sam said softly, carding his fingers through Dean’s hair.

Dean shivered and shook his head.

“D-Don’t let them take me back,” he whispered. Sam felt his fists tightened, and Sam frowned.

“Take you where?” Sam asked.

Dean didn’t answer, instead opting to push himself deeper in Sam’s embrace.

“Okay,” Sam said, swallowing and trying again. “I won’t let them take you anywhere. Can I take you to Bobby’s? We need to take you home.”

Dean nodded tiredly. Sam smiled weakly and looked to the leading woman for help. She ducked forward, whispering something to Dean, before she nodded to Sam and helped him pick Dean up to his feet again.

Dean stood fine on his own, but his face was vacant and cold. It scared Sam to his core.

“Make sure he keeps getting help,” the woman who helped him spoke. “I’m his psychiatrist, Tessa Night.”

Sam nodded his thanks and tightened his hold over Dean’s shoulder.

“It’s good to meet you,” Sam said. “I’ll make sure he comes back later.”

Tessa nodded seriously, but touched his arm before they could leave.

“While we were waiting for you, I wrote a prescription,” she explained. “It will help with his stress and anxiety, maybe help prevent future panic attacks. Also, don’t be surprised if he’s out of it for the next day or two. He’s… had a big day.”

“No kidding,” Sam said, frowning when he felt a slight tremor travel through his brother’s body. “Did you get the guys who did this on tape?”

Tessa smirked, but her eyes held no humor.

“We did. And I guarantee we’ll be getting it to the authorities. Nobody kidnaps my patients.”

Sam smiled kindly.

“Thank you, for everything. Really.”

“It’s my job to help,” Tessa replied. She glanced at Dean, who was beginning to get some color back in his face, and offered them both a small smile.

“You guys can keep the blanket as long as you need it,” she said kindly. “He needs rest. But his symptoms should wear off in a few hours. Take care of him.”

“I will,” Sam replied.

His grip around his brother secure, Sam finally turned and took his brother outside and to the waiting Impala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry! but here's to waiting another week for the next chapter *passes tea and 'special' beverages around for the adults*
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. please let me know what you think of it if you have some time! see you guys next tuesday, promise :)


	13. Still - Ben Folds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait guys! i had some difficulty writing this chapter because of a busy schedule and not enough time to myself to get what i wanted down on paper... so yeah. i also apologize for the shortness of this chapter. i promise the next one will be longer! (AND ALSO FROM CAS'S POV. SHHH) there will also be dean's pov to look forward to, as well.
> 
> anyway, i hope you guys like this chapter! it includes some explanation as to who the men were that tried to take dean, as well as some more history from dean's time with abbi. 
> 
> enjoy! (i apologize for any mistakes, they are mine alone.)

Still - Ben Folds

_I must give the impression that I have the answers for everything_

_You were so_ _disappointed to see me unravel so easily_

_It's only change, it's only everything I know_

_It's only change, and I'm only changing_

 

The drive to Bobby’s was mostly silent. Dean was still shaky beside him, holding tight to the blanket around his shoulders, but his eyes were a little more aware, a little more focused. It was mildly reassuring as Sam sped down the watery highways toward Bobby’s place.

It was fifteen minutes, but they arrived without getting into any trouble with law enforcement.

Bobby was waiting on the front porch when they pulled into the open door garage.

“We’re here,” Sam said, killing the engine. He looked at his brother, waiting for a response, but Dean’s eyes were narrowed and his expression tightened.

“Dean?” Sam tried again, hoping he wouldn’t have to drag Dean out of the car.

But Dean seemed to hear him, and his eyes flickered up, then towards Sam.

“I want Emma,” he said suddenly, catching Sam off guard.

“U-Uh, sure, of course Dean. But we gotta’ get you inside first. Okay?”

He reached for the door handle, but Dean’s hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back, startled by the determination in Dean’s sharp green eyes.

“Sam, I want Emma.” He spoke softly, but Sam didn’t miss the underlying growl. It was the tone Sam remembered from when they were kids, running across the country with their dad.

“ _Don’t ask questions Sammy,_ ” Dean used to snap in the dark, when it was well past both their bedtimes but Sam couldn’t sleep. “ _Sam, I mean it._ ”

It was like reliving the past. Only this time Sam was nearing his twenty-sixth birthday, and the brother he’d always looked up to had just nearly been kidnapped and had a breakdown. Sam was still figuring out how to react.

“I’ll get her for you,” Sam said, this time with more confidence than he felt. “She’s safe with Cas. But we need to take care of you right now. Okay?”

Dean didn’t answer. But he released his hold on Sam’s arm, and with it he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay,” Sam repeated tiredly. “Let’s get inside.”

Thankfully, he wasn’t forced to drag Dean out of the Impala. But Dean didn’t seem eager to go into the house, even after seeing Bobby on the porch.

Sam exchanged glances with the older man and tried not to read into the emotion lying there. As soon as Dean was inside, he cut a straight path for the couch, sitting down and refusing to move again.

“Is there anything we can get you Dean?” Sam asked, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Coffee? Food? Anything?”

Dean shivered under his touch, and his eyes narrowed.

“Emma,” he replied quietly. “I want Emma.”

Sam sighed and nodded.

“I’ll get her,” he promised.

He turned and spotted Bobby hovering in the doorway, staring at them both with a worried gleam in his eye. Sam glanced away and made his way back to the hallway. Bobby made room for him, then followed Sam to the kitchen and away from Dean’s earshot.

“How bad was it?” Bobby whispered. Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face, grateful when Bobby handed over a warm beer.

“Bad,” Sam replied softly. “Tessa said it was worse before I showed up. I didn’t ask too many questions, but she got it all recorded. It’ll be in the police’s hands soon enough.”

“Sure that’s a wise call?” Bobby asked, eyebrow raised.

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?” He glanced over his shoulder, almost suspicious that Dean would be in the hallway listening to them. But there was no one, and Bobby maintained his seriousness.

“We don’t know much about anything,” Bobby replied. “Dean’s barely told us about his days with you-know-who. For all we know she could have had connections to some pretty dark stuff. Dean could’ve been taken today! We don’t even know who those guys were! Don’t ya’ think we should wait and see if this is something we’re ready to jump into?”

Sam bit his lip and looked down at the beer in his hand.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it would be wrong not to do something. If people are out to get Dean, we need to protect him. No matter what.”

Bobby huffed and rolled his eyes.

“But you sure you trust the cops for that?” He asked.

Sam frowned deeply and sighed.

“Things aren’t like they were when John was alive, Bobby. I’d like to operate within the legal guidelines, if at all possible.”

“Ya’ damn lawyer,” Bobby grunted. Sam raised an eyebrow, but when he noticed the small smirk playing at the older man’s lips, he rolled his eyes and smiled weakly.

“Sure,” Sam chuckled. “Now, I should go and get Emma. Dean seems pretty intent on keeping her close.”

“Think there’s a reason for that?” Bobby asked hesitantly.

Sam shrugged and set his beer down.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “You can ask him. Can’t guarantee that he’ll answer. I have to go.”

“Yeah,” Bobby waved him off. “You get her. I’ll hold down the fort, watch out for Dean.”

Sam nodded his thanks and made his way back to the main room. A quick look back in the living room showed Dean was now lying on the couch, a hand over his eyes like he was trying to sleep. Sam sighed and opened the door to the pouring rain outside.

Today was going to be a long day.

…

Bobby heard the door close and frowned, reaching for the second unopened beer he’d left on the counter. He wandered his way into the living room, eyes quickly falling on Dean’s still figure on the couch. Even though the man before him wasn’t moving, Bobby knew for a fact he was still wide awake. He knew Dean too well for that.

If anything big went down, Dean was wired like a bomb. He wouldn’t rest till his timer ran out. Bobby wondered if he’d gone off yet.

“Hey,” Bobby called, getting his surrogate son’s attention. Dean flinched, but lowered his hand, looking up at Bobby between his fingers.

His eyes were strained and bloodshot. His skin was pale, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Dean didn’t look well.

“Need a beer?” Bobby asked. Dean shook his head and raised his fingers again.

“‘M fine,” Dean grumbled.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Well, alright,” he replied. He dropped down into an armchair across from Dean, set his feet up on the coffee table and leveled his gaze at the man across from him. “Wanna’ talk about what happened today?”

“No,” came the only reply. Dean rolled over and hid his face against the back of the sofa, effectively ending any further conversation.

Bobby frowned and sat forward, planting his feet back on the ground. “Dean, ya’ gotta’ talk to me here. Somethin’ big happened to you today. You can’t go through this alone. Talk to me. What happened?”

Abruptly, Dean sat up and glared at Bobby.

“I mean it,” he growled. “Leave it alone. It’s not your problem to deal with, so just let me figure it out!”

“Figure _what_ out, Dean?” Bobby replied, stiff. “Ya’ haven’t said anything!”

“E-Exactly!” Dean snapped and stood. “I don’t want to talk about it, Bobby! There’s nothing to talk about!”

Bobby stared at him. Dean glared back.

“This got anything to do with Emma? And why your brother had to leave and go get her the moment you both got here?”

Just like that, Dean’s face paled and his posture tensed. Bobby looked down, and felt his heart constrict when he spotted the trembling in Dean’s hands.

“Answer me, Dean. Why do you need Emma right now?”

Dean bit his lip and his eyes narrowed.

“It’s stupid,” he grumbled. “Just wanna’ make sure she’s okay. That’s it. Now leave it alone!”

He turned to walk away, heading in the direction of the guest rooms. Bobby quickly stood and followed him, cutting him off before he could get too far.

“Not so fast, son,” Bobby ordered, holding up a hand to Dean’s chest. Dean’s glare was nearly murderous. Bobby held his ground and kept his gaze fixed on Dean’s.

“I need some answers. Those men who tried to take you were caught on camera. It’s only a matter of time before the cops figure out who they are. Now do you want us to find out from them, or from you?”

Dean hesitated. It was just enough to give Bobby a boost of confidence. He took a step forward and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Now, you know who they are. Don’t ya?’”

Dean’s eyes flickered down, then back up. He was still hesitant, but Bobby could see the walls crumbling. Bobby liked to think of it as the need to confess. Something both the Winchester boys fought against tooth and nail all their lives. Bobby thought it was what helped Sam become a lawyer. But with Dean, he ended up like his old man. A tad too self-reliant and a bit too self-loathing.

But Bobby was placing his bets on working that to his advantage now.

“Did they hurt Emma?”

Dean’s eyes flew open and he growled, “They’d be _dead_ if they hurt her.”

“Then what’d they do?” Bobby asked softly.

Dean’s lips tightened into a thin line. He took a step back and frowned.

“I-It’s complicated,” he replied, swallowing. “I messed up. Abbi was mad. It was my fault.”

“Wait,” Bobby raised his hands slowly. “Hold on there. What’d you do? What was your fault?”

Dean shivered and he shook his head hard.

“I… I did something bad. I just, I couldn’t deal with what she was doing to me anymore. I… I took Emma and ran away. We ended up in this old motel, some place called the Red Sparrow. I thought we were safe. I thought she wouldn’t find us but then she--”

His eyes suddenly widened and his breathing grew erratic.

“Shit,” Bobby cursed. He reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling him back into the living room where Dean left the blanket. He threw it over Dean’s shoulders and sat him back down on the sofa. “Calm down son. Take it slow. What’d she do?”

Dean’s eyes were still wide, but he shivered and continued, “She sent her friends. Contacts--I don’t know. But they came, and I think they killed the manager and they took me back to Abbi. They took Emma away… Abbi said I wouldn’t get to see her again unless I never tried to run away again, or fight Abbi. I didn’t know what else to do.” Dean shivered and looked down. “I stayed. I got Emma back a few weeks later. But Bobby… if they’re back, they might try to get Emma. If they get Emma I can’t--”

He broke off again and pulled the blanket tight over his shoulders. Bobby’s eyes widened and he took a step back, looking down at the broken man in front of him.

“I need Emma, Bobby,” Dean whispered. “I need her. Please.”

Bobby nodded hard and reached in his pocket, pulling out his phone. He needed to call Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! sorry it was short. but next week it'll be longer, for sure ;)
> 
> see you guys next tuesday!


	14. Lose It - Oh Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! thank you so much for your comments. they meant a lot and gave me the boost to get started a little early and by extension... POST EARLY. YEAH. anyway, thanks for being patient with me! we've got some more destiel action coming up in the next few chapters... so look forward to that ;)
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy the chapter! again, it's a little bit short, but i wanted to get castiel's pov. and maybe... someone else's as well... *cue ominous music*
> 
> enjoy!

Lose It - Oh Wonder

_Move your feet and feel it in the space between_

_You gotta give yourself a moment, let your body be_

_We gotta lose it, We gotta lose it_

 

“You’re staring again,” Anna said from the other side of the living room. Castiel rolled his eyes and glanced at her, only briefly before turning his eyes back to the little on in his lap.

Emma was busy biting and mouthing at the rattle in her hands, furiously chomping away while an open picture book lay forgotten in both her and Castiel’s lap. Castiel felt her back leaning against his gut, and she often began to slide left and right in her determination to break the rattle. Castiel picked her up under her arms and pulled the book away, replacing it with Emma on her back so she was free to kick and throw her limbs in an attempt to get a better angle.

Not for the first time, Castiel was struck by how adorable Dean’s daughter was. Her blonde curls were growing into a wild mane around her head. Small ringlets dropped into her stunning eyes, and Castiel beamed at the drooling child in front of him.

“It’s hard not to,” Castiel replied evenly. “I’ve never babysat her before.”

“It’s not that different than Claire,” Anna said.

Castiel shrugged again and tugged at the base of the rattle. Emma gurgled in protest and pulled back. He smiled and leaned back against the sofa.

He couldn’t help but think of Claire at this age. She’d cried a lot. Castiel remembered that much. He could only assume she’d somehow sensed that he wasn’t her real father, that her real parents were missing and she wanted them. But after some time, she’d quieted down--mostly--and had grown into the beautiful young girl she was today.

She still liked to terrorize people occasionally, like she no doubt was doing now at Gabriel’s house, but Castiel was fairly convinced Clare had something of an angel inside her too.

“No, I suppose not,” Castiel sighed. “But she has an extra side of angel to her that Claire didn’t have back then.”

“You’re just saying that because you think Dean’s an angel.”

Castiel blushed, but didn’t rise to the challenge. He turned his gaze back to Emma and began playing with her feet. Emma chirped and batted her rattle at his fingers.

He could feel Anna’s eyes on him as he played silently with the baby girl in his lap. But he didn’t look back. His thoughts were occupied.

It was true. He did think of Dean like an angel. Even with whatever history lay behind him, Castiel was not oblivious to the kindness and fondness the man shared for those around him. He saw it especially with Sam in the way Dean would fuss at him when they got together with the rest of their friends for drinks. He got to see it every morning and afternoon at Anna’s house when Dean dropped off Emma. He also had the inside scoop from Charlie, who still visited Sam and Dean often. If Charlie loved Dean, Castiel was all the more convinced of Dean’s goodness.

And Castiel’s strengthening attraction toward the man had nothing to do with his incredible physical beauty--even if it was a great contributing factor.

Dean was incredible, and Castiel just wished he could know him more personally than just meetups with friends and their small, albeit lighthearted, conversations at Anna’s.

“And you’re doing it again,” Anna called, breaking Castiel out of his thoughts once more.

Castiel groaned and leaned back on the sofa, finally leveling his gaze with his sister.

“Don’t you have anything else to do?”

“No,” Anna replied, smirking. “That’s why I decided to stop by. Remember?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Emma, just in time to see the small girl give off a withering yawn.

“Well, Emma seems to be drifting off. I think I’ll put her down for a while.”

“Do you still have that crib Claire used to sleep in?”

“I was considering it, yes,” Castiel replied and stood. Even though he knew Emma would be comfortable in her mound of blankets regardless, the thought of just setting her down in anything short of a bed didn’t make Castiel comfortable. So Claire’s crib it was.

“Honestly, you’re going to spoil her, if Dean and Sam haven’t already.”

“I doubt she can be spoiled,” Castiel smiled, walking over to the stairs. “She’s too good for that.”

“Sure,” Anna’s eyes sparkling, “wait till she hits the terrible two’s.”

“You’re just determined to make her sour, aren’t you?”

“Not at all,” Anna replied.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by knocking at the door. Anna offered Cas a raised eyebrow and stood to get it.

“I’m just saying Castiel,” she finished as she walked over. “Stay realistic. Things always go wrong, no matter how nice things seem… Sam?”

Castiel hesitated by the stairs and looked over his shoulder to see Anna’s eyes narrow in concern. Then their visitor stepped in, and Castiel felt his heart thunder.

Sam didn’t look well. His complexion was pale, his shoulders and posture heavy and weighted. He looked ready to sit down for a few hours. Or days.

“Sam,” Castiel echoed in surprise. “You’re back earlier than I expected.”

“Me too,” Sam replied. His eyes drifted down to Emma, and something seemed to shake him. Castiel almost didn’t notice the shiver that went up his friend’s spine if it weren’t for Anna’s sudden step back.

“Something’s wrong?” Anna asked.

Sam flinched and Castiel’s heart hammered once more. He hadn’t said anything to Anna about why he was babysitting Emma. Castiel didn’t know much either. All he knew was that it was an emergency, and it had something to do with Dean. Castiel had spent the last half hour determined not to think too much on it, otherwise he was sure he would unravel somehow.

“I’m just here to collect Emma,” Sam swallowed, posture stiff.

Castiel breathed out slowly and nodded. Emma was nearly out like a light against his shoulder, so he was careful not to jostle her as he walked over to Sam and placed her in his arms.

“I’ll get her things,” Castiel started, but stopped at the sound of Anna coughing.

“I’ll get it,” she replied. She cast a glance between the two of them, something deep and meaningful in her gaze, before she started going around the room and gathering things together.

She was far enough away to be out of earshot. For that Castiel was grateful.

“How is Dean?” Castiel asked softly. Sam’s gaze lowered to Emma in his arms, then sighed and bit his lip.

“Not good,” Sam replied. “He had an appointment today. Some things went… wrong.”

Castiel could tell Sam was holding back. There was information he was hiding. But Castiel didn’t ask. It wasn’t his place. He nodded silently and glanced at Emma.

“Is there anything I can do?” He said after a moment.

Sam didn’t reply. He stared at Emma, then around the room. Anna had disappeared for the time being. Castiel wasn’t sure how long they had before she’d have to return. He didn’t even know how long Sam had to stay.

“Can you just… stay available?” Sam finally replied, voice strained. Castiel looked into his eyes and hesitated. There was something guarded there. Something that worried him deeply. Whatever had happened with Dean must have been serious. The thought was nerve wracking.

“Of course,” Castiel replied.

Sam licked his lips, shuffled on his feet. “I’m sorry,” he added softly. “I wish I could tell you more, but everything’s really… sensitive, right now. But if you’d be available to watch Emma when you have time, or just have your phone on for the next few days, We--uh, _I_ , would really appreciate that.”

“It’s no problem Sam,” Castiel said with a small smile. “Whatever you need.”

“Thanks.” Sam smiled weakly as Anna returned to the main room, Emma’s blankets and toys in their respective bag and carrier.

She helped Sam get Emma set up in the carrier and double checked the bags as Castiel looked on, thoughts swirling.

There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t want to ask Sam every question on his mind. He wanted answers. He wanted to know Dean was alright. But judging by the hurried pace to Sam’s actions, and the weight of his body and gaze, Castiel already knew that Dean wasn’t okay. The thought alone hurt more than Castiel was prepared for.

He tried to pull his thoughts in, get control, but still found his lips parting for one last question--anything to get some kind of reassurance that things would at least be alright, eventually.

But he was silenced by the sound of Sam’s phone ringing.

Emma whined from her carrier and Anna hurried to hush the child. Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly opened it.

“Bobby?” Sam asked quietly, stepping away so Anna could do her work.

Castiel’s eyes tracked Sam’s movements as he listened to the phone, eyes continually narrowing in confusion as Sam’s face contorted.

“Wait, Bobby, what are you talking about?”

Silence held for a few moments, only disrupted by Anna’s soft whispers to Emma. But even Castiel could tell she was listening intently.

“... _Shit,_ ” Sam swore, eyes suddenly widening. “No, it’s fine. I think it’s fine. I’ll be back in ten minutes, tops... What should I say?”

Castiel and Anna exchanged a look, but it was short lived before Sam was nodding firmly. He looked at the two in front of him, something steeled and determined roaring in his gaze, before he said, “Got it. I’ll be back soon. Watch Dean.”

The phone snapped shut and Sam let out a rushed breath.

“Castiel,” he began slowly, surely, “we need to talk for a minute.”

Castiel felt his heart drop like a stone in his chest. Whatever was coming next wasn’t going to be good. But he steeled himself and nodded firmly.

“Alright.”

…

Crowley Ferguson sighed as he watched the security camera recording from Tessa Night’s clinic. They’d gotten lucky, tracking Winchester back to California. His partners had suspected that Dean had run away with his brother back in November, but Crowley was not the kind of man to chase after hunches. He might never have made the decision, if it weren’t for the credit trail that suddenly reappeared at the clinic appointment.

The trip had been a short one, provided by Crowley’s contacts and resources. And seeing Dean Winchester again… that was a treat by itself.

He fully expected the man to put up a fight. But he couldn’t stop the vague disappointment that Dean hadn’t even tried to hear him out. Perhaps if he did, his reaction might have been different. Perhaps Crowley’s reaction wouldn’t have been so… forced.

But it was in the past now, and Crowley had already been made aware of Ms. Night’s attempts to give over the recording to the police. Unfortunately, if she hadn’t discovered it already, she no longer had that recording.

Crowley pressed a button and watched the recording go back, re-witnessing the moment he and his men ‘left,’ nevermind his third man hiding in the back rooms with the computers and security footage. He watched the moment Dean crumbled, fell back against the wall as Ms. Night rushed to him.

It was an unfortunate outcome, Crowley mused. But he had no doubt their next meeting would go quite differently. Next time he’d hold Dean’s attention.

Next time, he’d get what he wanted. But first, he reached out and turned on his phone.

He had some calls to make.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehh? like it? love it? ready for more? i promise longer chapters in the coming weeks, as well as more one-on-one destiel moments soon! see you next week!


	15. When You Break - Bear's Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry for the late update tonight. i'm about to head off to a camp so i was a bit busy this past week. anyway, i hope you guys like the chapter. we're going to be getting more destiel in the coming chapters, promise.
> 
> in the meantime, this chapter is just as angsty as usual... sadly. but there is some fluff and good stuff coming.
> 
> also, this chapter does not reflect my views. in the case of domestic abuse, no one has any right to share information about the victim to others without their consent. (i say this in the theory that the person is out of their dangerous situation and is safe now.) it's a terrible thing to do and shouldn't be done because it can harm the person emotionally while they're trying to recover. however in this chapter, it was necessary because the risk and danger affected other people as well, hence what happens in this chapter.
> 
> if you know anyone who has left a dangerous situation and is now in recovery, please never mention it to strangers or people outside immediate family without their consent. (even with family members, if it's dangerous to the person or they have explicitly stated that you shouldn't.) It's not cool. Please respect privacy, especially if they are safe now and trying to move on.
> 
> With that said, let's go on with the chapter! I apologize for any mistakes, they are mine alone and I will edit them later this week.

When You Break - Bear's Den

_You could never live out in the open_

_Regretting every word you've spoken_

_When you break it's too late for you to fall apart_

_And the blame that you claim is all your own fault_

 

The drive back to Bobby’s was quiet. Too quiet. Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, adjusting it so he could get a better look at the kicking baby in the backseat. Emma wasn’t making any noise, but for once, Sam felt unsettled by it. He considered turning on the radio, finding a good hit to listen to, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Bobby’s call had left Sam feeling shaken, as if the rest of the day had been nothing.

Dean knew who those thugs were. He also had enough reason to believe they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted, whatever that was. And the first place they’d start? With Dean’s closest friends. That would be Charlie, Benny, Gabriel… Castiel.

Benny and Charlie could handle themselves. Sam was confident in that. Benny was an ex-marine, and Charlie was an advanced fighter, both in hand to hand combat and sword play. She didn’t get into fantasy role playing with nothing to show for it. Gabriel also was a force to be reckoned with, but for whatever reason, Sam never felt it was safe to ask how. But by Castiel’s assurance, Sam trusted Gabriel would be fine on his own as well. He sent warning texts to all of them anyway, just to stay safe and be wary.

But Castiel wasn’t the same. Castiel was Dean and Sam’s best friend. Even though he knew how to handle a few guns, Sam was worried.

Castiel was the closest friend they had. He was the one who hung out with Dean the most often. If Dean’s enemies were going to go after anyone, Sam could bet it would be Emma, or Castiel.

He glanced over at the passenger seat where his friend sat.

Castiel had been quiet ever since they left. After a quick word with Anna, she had left to go get Claire and drop her off when Castiel called back.

The man sat silently, eyes fixed ahead on some unseeable point in the distance. Like Emma, he hadn’t made a single noise or sentiment about what was going on. When Sam had briefed him on what happened at the facility, and to Dean, he’d been unnaturally calm.

He simply asked, “What do we do, then?”

The answer was simple. Sam would have to thank Bobby later.

“We don’t know enough details, but I know a place we can wait until we have more information from the police.”

That was the end of it. Castiel packed an overnight bag just in case, and it currently sat in Castiel’s lap.

Sam was anxious about what his friend was thinking. “You okay?” He asked, finally breaking the thick silence.

Castiel grunted in reply, fingers tightening around the bag.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, swallowing. “I mean, I get it if you’re mad. I had no idea anything like this would happen--”

“I’m not mad, Sam,” Castiel sighed, finally turning to look at him. His blue eyes were heavy, tired. It put Sam’s stomach in knots.

“Then what are you thinking?”

Castiel frowned deeply and glanced away before speaking. “I’m concerned. If what we know already is true, how certain are we that they didn’t do something to the security cameras? How can we anticipate anything they’ll do next?”

“We have Dean,” Sam tried, but even he knew that was thin. Dean had never mentioned anything like this. As far as Sam was concerned, it was only Abbigail who’d been hurting Dean. No other suspects, no other reason to push Dean more than necessary.

Hell, Dean had barely been forthcoming already. Adding this on top of everything could silence him forever.

Sam had no idea how Bobby got even this much out of him.

“How much does Dean know?” Castiel asked.

Sam bit the inside of his cheek and drummed his fingers on the wheel.

“Probably more than he’s sharing,” Sam replied after a moment.

Castiel nodded, and the car fell into silence once more.

When they arrived at Bobby’s, Sam took no time to gauge Castiel’s reaction to the salvage yard and property. His primary focus was getting Emma to Dean now. The last he’d seen of Dean, that was the most important thing his older brother cared about. Sam would be damned if he didn’t pull through.

The baby and carrier safely in his arms, Sam led Castiel up onto the porch and through the front door. What he didn’t expect was Dean literally spinning into the hallway as Castiel closed the door behind them.

Sam didn’t miss the sigh of relief, or the way Dean’s face immediately pulled back into a weary smile when his eyes fell on his daughter.

He moved forward, as if to take Emma from Sam, but froze when he realized Sam hadn’t come alone.

Castiel and Dean’s eyes locked, something electric and sharp passing between them. Sam coughed when nobody moved, and Dean’s eyes snapped back to meet his.

“Emma,” he grunted, extending a hand.

Sam took the silent cue and did as he was told, handing out the carrier for Dean to take. His hands wrapped around it and he looked down at Emma for a moment, emotions warring on his face before he nodded and smiled.

“Thanks Sam,” he muttered. With one last look at Castiel, he turned the other direction and headed for the stairs. A moment later he was gone.

Castiel sighed beside him. “I think I understand now,” he said solemnly.

Sam didn’t know what he understood. He didn’t want to ask.

“I’ll introduce you to Bobby,” Sam replied.

…

Castiel and Bobby got along surprisingly well. They talked throughout the hour as Bobby cooked up a meal. Sam didn’t fail to notice it was Dean’s favorite burgers.

However, Dean didn’t come back down for dinner. In the end, it was probably for the best. Tessa called Sam back through Dean’s phone, the bearer of bad news for the second time that day.

The tape of the event was stolen. There was no footage of the attack or anything to do with Dean’s attackers. Tessa was going to the police station to try and get a physical description out, but they would be lacking in details without Dean’s help. All they had going against the men was attempted abduction, and the only person who’d actually witnessed anything was Tessa. Without Dean, they didn’t have much going for them.

Sam brought up dinner to Dean’s room a few hours later into the evening. Dean didn’t answer when he knocked, and didn’t react when Sam stepped inside. He was laying on his bed, Emma sprawled out on her back beside him. Dean was dangling toys over her head, watching silently as she reached up and tried to snatch them from his fingers.

The scene should have been heart warming, but Sam only felt cold.

Dean’s face was still and expressionless, eyes vacant even as he moved his hand higher and lower to keep Emma interested.

Overall, Sam didn’t feel comforted by the ongoing silence.

“Dean?” He tried again, moving closer to the bed.

He set the tray of food Bobby made for dinner on the nightstand, but still, Dean didn’t react. His eyes didn’t waver from Emma once.

Sam sighed and looked down at his brother. He wondered if he should tell Dean that Tessa called. He wasn’t even sure if Dean was listening at all. But it was important, and he had to try.

The toy jingled in Dean’s hand and Emma gurgled, reaching again for it, but this time Sam intervened. His fingers closed around Dean’s and stopped the sound. Dean froze as Sam pulled the toy out of his now limp hold, and Sam put the toy in Emma’s hands.

She immediately began to chew on it furiously. She was probably still teething, Sam realized idly. But his thoughts turned back to Dean, who was still staring at the little girl in front of him.

“Dean,” Sam tried again.

Dean flinched. His eyes finally turned up to look at Sam, but Sam wasn’t sure if it was a victory or not.

“You know,” Dean said after a moment, voice barely loud enough to catch, “the last time I saw those guys… they took Emma right out of my arms. Kicking and screaming. I didn’t see her again for weeks.”

Sam nodded slowly, attentive. Bobby hadn’t told him much. But he did mention something along those lines. He swallowed and replied, “Why?”

Dean shrugged, eyes dropping back to Emma again.

“Bad fight. Pissed off Abbi. She wouldn’t let me leave the house and I guess… I guess I rebelled. Couldn’t help it. I needed to get out, man… you know?”

Sam nodded on instinct. To be honest, he didn’t know or understand half the things Dean talked about. Well, whenever he did talk about this stuff. But whenever Dean was brave enough to share, Sam felt like he owed it to him. He needed Dean to know it was okay to talk, even if Sam would never understand what it was like to live in that kind of horror house.

“His name’s Crowley,” Dean said abruptly, catching Sam off guard. He looked at Dean carefully, but his brother showed no expression or hint of it. His body was still, and his gaze was steady, unwavering. It was chilling.

“Crowley,” Sam echoed.

Dean nodded. “He runs a contracting business,” he explained softly, fingers trailing up to play with Emma’s ringlet curls. “But he doesn’t just do it for architecture or construction. He’s got hands in everything. Abbi met with him all the time. I think… they were business partners? I don’t know.” He shivered and glanced down at the sheets. “He’s bad, Sam. He’s really bad.”

Sam reached out and touched Dean’s shoulder, something inside him warming in relief when Dean closed his eyes and sighed.

“This is good Dean,” Sam said softly. “You need to talk about it. We need to find out who this guy is so the cops can catch him.”

“They’re not gonna,’” Dean grumbled tiredly. He ran a hand down his face and looked at Sam wearily. “You can’t catch him cause he doesn’t leave trails to follow. He doesn’t leave evidence. If there is any, it’s our word against his. It’d never stand up in court Sam. And I’m too tired to push back anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” Sam growled. “You’re the strongest person I know Dean, whether you believe it or not. We can fight this. We’re not going to let these people hurt you.”

Dean huffed and glared at the toy in Emma’s hands.

“Yeah?” He retorted. “The police couldn’t even help me until Abbi was dead.”

A shiver rippled down Sam’s spine and he clenched his jaw.

“You know that’s not true Dean,” he started, slow. “I talked to the officers. They were ready to make that arrest. It’s nobody’s fault about what happened; only hers.”

Dean didn’t answer. It wasn’t reassuring. Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about Crowley? Or the guys he was with?”

Dean shrugged and glanced at Sam briefly.

“I don’t know. He’s british, I think.” He sighed and grabbed the toy from Emma, who sputtered and whined unhappily as he twisted it around above her head.

“Anything else?” Sam egged on. Dean didn’t answer. His eyes were steadily growing vacant again, and Sam knew Dean was turning off.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You should eat something,” he said finally, standing. “Bobby made burgers, your favorite.”

Still no response. Sam nodded and moved toward the door.

“Get some rest Dean--”

“Sam?” Dean suddenly called. Sam paused, hand on the door, and looked back. Dean was staring at him from the bed, something hesitant and searching in his gaze.

“How long is Cas staying?” He asked.

Sam shrugged, half wondering what it meant to Dean, but deciding against asking.

“However long is necessary,” Sam replied. “We don’t know how big a threat Crowley is, or what he wants. Unless you have any idea?”

Dean shook his head slowly, gaze dropping.

But Sam wasn’t done. “Dean, does Castiel need to stay here? Is he in any danger because of your close friendship with him?”

Dean’s eyes snapped back up to his sharply. Sam didn’t miss the wariness in his eyes, the fear. He knew the answer before Dean nodded his head slowly, shame flickering in his gaze.

Sam wished with everything in him that he could wipe that look away forever. None of this was his fault. None of it. The thought that Dean felt responsible was painful.

Sam offered him a small smile, hoping it would bring some comfort. “Don’t worry. Everybody’s safe here,” he promised, hand finally returning to the door. “Goodnight Dean.”

With that, he closed the door behind him. He tried not to read too much into what Dean said about Crowley.

He’s bad. Really bad, apparently. Sam had no idea what that meant, or the connotations behind it.

But in the meantime, he was determined to learn as much as possible, no matter what. Sam didn’t go to Stanford for nothing, after all. Dean was worth saving, and nothing was going to stand between Sam and protecting him from whatever this threat was.

He could count on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys liked it! next chapter will be next tuesday as usual. fluff and destiel moments coming! see ya!


	16. Open Hands - Ingrid Michaelson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! sorry for posting so late today, but you wouldn't believe the day i've been having. didn't even have time to write until around six pm tonight. so here we are, midnight, and the update.
> 
> we're going to explore a bit more of castiel's character and where he's coming from in all of this, as well as officially digging into his and dean's relationship for the first real substantial time so far this story. i hope you guys like it!
> 
> usual angst and warnings apply.

Open Hands - Ingrid Michaelson

_Nobody wants to be the only one that's left standing_

_Nobody wants to be the only one to understand_

 

“ _Daddy,_ ” Claire’s voice whined over Castiel’s cell phone, “ _I want to see you!_ ”

Castiel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking over the coffee table of Bobby Singer’s living room. It was morning now, and even though the guest room he’d been offered was more than comfortable, he hardly slept. He felt it was understandable, considering the circumstances.

But he wasn’t angry about being in this situation. He was frustrated. His daughter was staying with his sister, and who knew who was going after Dean and his family. Castiel wished he knew more of the details. But Sam had only been able to tell him so much the afternoon before.

He’d explained the incident at the facility, how men had come in and attempted to kidnap Dean to the point of violence. Sam also explained that these men were dangerous enough to not only go after Dean’s family, but his closest friends.

“That’s you,” Sam said softly, sadly.

Castiel wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He was floored Dean, or even Sam, considered him a close friend. But after Sam’s talk with Dean the previous night, Sam had sympathetically let him know that Dean had reiterated that it was dangerous enough that Castiel would probably be targeted.

And now Castiel sat in the home of a man he barely knew, with his technical boss sleeping upstairs, and one of his best friends in the world probably trying to forget his life was happening to him.

Castiel wished he could do more. He wished he could be with his daughter. But most of all, he wished he could easily say his daughter and sister were going to be safe.

“You can see me in a little while, sweetie,” Castiel finally replied after counting back from ten. “But I just need to be away for now. Not long, I promise.”

“ _How long?_ ” Claire sniffed. Castiel could already see the tears and snot bubbles in his mind. His heart thudded painfully.

“I can’t say right now, Claire. But I’ll call you every day if I can.”

“ _P-Promise?_ ” Claire asked.

Castiel smiled softly and nodded, even though she couldn’t see. “Promise. Now can you hand the phone back to Aunt Anna?”

There was a shuffling sound and Castiel heard Claire break out in sobs again as Anna took the phone away.

“ _She misses you,_ ” Anna said after a moment. “ _You didn’t give either of us much warning here, or details._ ”

“It’s about Dean,” Castiel said softly, unsure if anyone was awake to hear him. “And his situation.”

He heard his sister take a measured breath.

“ _I see. But isn’t his fiance passed?_ ”

“Yes,” Castiel replied, glancing around the room. “But there were other connections. I need to be here right now.”

“ _Because of…?_ ”

“Not because of that,” Castiel huffed, shaking his head. “Because it’s vital. I can’t tell you why right now. I need more information before I do. I just need you to watch after Claire and try and keep her and yourself inside. Also keep the doors locked, and the windows.”

“ _...Castiel, you realize that’s not reassuring._ ”

“I do,” Castiel sighed. “I promise I’ll get back to you when I know more.”

“ _I’ll do what I can,_ ” Anna promised. “ _Just get back to me. I mean it._ ”

“I understand,” he replied. “I owe you.”

“ _No you don’t,_ ” she huffed, and Castiel could imagine her rolling eyes. “ _I’ll talk to you later._ ”

“Tell Claire I love her.”

“ _Of course. Bye Castiel._ ”

He hung up the phone and dropped it into his lap, sitting back and sighing heavily. It wasn’t even eight o'clock in the morning and he was ready for the day to be over.

Why was this even happening to him? Why was it happening to Dean? Hadn’t he gone through enough already? Castiel didn’t have to know the details to hurt for his friend. The entire situation was more than anybody should have to handle.

He ran a hand through his hair and continued to stretch, groaning when joints popped in protest. It was too early for this.

His attention snapped toward the doorway when he heard the floorboards creak.

Sam had warned that Bobby was an early riser and a light sleeper. Castiel could only assume it was him, but his eyes widened in surprise when a very sleep-deprived Dean stepped into view.

He looked just as surprised to see Castiel as he felt.

Dean’s hair was wild and bedraggled, his grey shirt twisted up across his torso like he’d spent more hours turning in bed than actually sleeping. His eyes seemed duller than usual, and his skin was pale.

Castiel wanted to throw a blanket around his shoulders and get hot food and liquids into his body. He looked like hell was warming over.

“Cas,” Dean croaked, still stunned in place in the doorway.

Castiel stared back, dumbly, then nodded slowly.

“Hello Dean,” he replied. He glanced at the sofa he sat on, then back at Dean, who had yet to budge from his spot. “Would you like to sit?” He offered, patting the cushions next to him.

Dean stared at him for another few moments, eyes glassy, before he abruptly nodded and made his way over.

He sat down stiffly, Castiel noticed, but seemed to settle after a few moments of shuffling and arranging himself with the worn and raggedy pillows around him. Castiel smiled softly at the sight his friend made, his arms wrapped around a knitted green pillow, his eyes flickering between a tear in the seams and Castiel’s knees. In any other circumstances, Castiel would have called it cute. But right now, his heart was filled with longing and sadness. He wanted to reach out, somehow soothe whatever anxiety was plaguing him, but he held himself back.

Now wasn’t the time or place, and Castiel hardly knew how Dean really saw him.

“How much has Sam told you?” Dean said suddenly, voice loud and awkward in the silence.

Castiel tried not to jump, but he wasn’t sure how well he succeeded. Dean watched him warily. Castiel frowned and shrugged.

“Not too much,” he replied honestly. “He explained what happened at the facility, about how they tried to… take you. But he didn’t tell me why, or who they were.”

It was Dean’s turn to shrug as he picked at the tear in the pillow. “Not sure why,” he replied quietly. “But the guy’s name was Crowley. He knew… He knew Abbi.”

Castiel shivered inwardly and watched Dean carefully, warily.

They’d never discussed Abbi before. Dean tried not to mention her, and whenever the subject did come up, Castiel was always happy to help Dean change the subject. Back then, he could tell it was a welcome relief. Now the words felt bitter and uncomfortable. Inescapable.

“Abbi was my fiance,” Dean continued to explain, smiling awkwardly to diffuse the tension. “She was beautiful, red hair kind of like Anna’s but wavier. When we met she was some hotshot professor with a bone to pick.”

Castiel chuckled, not because he found it funny or cute. But because Dean’s eyes were desperate and he seemed to relax when the sound left Castiel’s lips.

“So she was nice?” Castiel offered when Dean didn’t continue. He didn’t bother adding _at first_ to the end of his sentence. It was already unsaid between them.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, smile weakening. “But then she wasn’t anymore. She was actually pretty evil.”

Castiel bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to look around the room in paranoia. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. He couldn’t believe Dean was actually _talking_ with him about it, the very thing that had hung unsaid between them for the past few months since Dean came back home with Sam.

It made him feel dizzy.

“Did she hurt you?” He wanted to slap himself. Dean’s eyes widened a fraction, and Castiel almost felt relieved to see some of his old spark and defiance fill his features.

But it quickly disappeared again, and hard lines covered Dean’s face.

“I handled it,” he grunted, glaring down at the pillow in distaste. “But it was bad,” he added, an after thought.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel offered softly.

Dean’s gaze snapped back up to his and he bit, “I don’t _want_ your _pity_. It was what it was. I didn’t ask for it and you had no part in it. So don’t _apologize_.”

Castiel was taken aback for a moment, eyes wide and uncertain. He’d never faced an angry Dean before. He’d seen Dean smiling and laughing, eyes wide with terror and anxiety, but never angry. He wasn’t sure what to do without Dean exploding on him, or worse, walking away.

He quickly thought for an answer, but found his eyes narrowing and his lips hardening in a firm line.

“I wasn’t apologizing, and I don’t pity you. Whatever she did to you was out of your control, and I was trying to let you know that I understand and wish that you had been given better. Don’t assume everyone’s out to get you Dean.”

Dean’s jaw dropped, but he didn’t look pleased. He snarled, “In my experience they always have.”

“Because of Crowley?” Castiel asked.

“Because of Abbi, and her never letting me leave the house without her or somebody else!” Dean exclaimed, throwing the pillow to the side. “Because the hospital always thought my wounds were from bar fights or self-harm, and because the first few times I went to the cops they thought I was lying through my teeth because I hated women! Because I can’t even look at Sam or Bobby without expecting them to get in my face about everything that’s happened, especially now that Crowley’s tracked me back down and wants who knows what with me! So yeah! Maybe the world does seem pretty out to get me, Cas!”

Dean’s chest was heaving by the end of it, his words dying on his lips once he got a good look at Castiel’s stunned face.

But he didn’t apologize. He instead pulled back, idly reaching for his discarded pillow. “Don’t act like you know me, Cas,” he finally muttered, and with it, Castiel’s heart snapped.

“I want to, though,” Castiel replied softly.

Dean huffed and glared at the ground.

“Well then you’re an idiot.”

They lapsed into silence for several long minutes, neither saying a word, both staring in opposite directions.

Castiel didn’t expect Dean to speak again, until, “What makes you think you understand anyway?”

Castiel shrugged and looked at his feet.

“Our family’s dealt with domestic violence before. We’re not strangers to it, unfortunately.”

The silence was thick and overwhelming. Castiel didn’t dare look back at Dean, until he Dean nudge his elbow.

His friend’s eyes were narrowed and skeptical, but they were brighter somehow. Castiel felt caught in them as Dean lowered his head and asked, “What do you mean?”

Castiel shifted back in his seat and finally forced his body to relax. Dean was watching him attentively now, and he almost felt it’d be wrong to break this moment now. Especially with Dean’s previous words ringing in his ears.

“It’s a little complicated,” Castiel finally explained. “Our father was mostly in and out of our lives growing up, barely around to give us any kind of guidance or understanding on the world or what kind of people were living in it. He wasn’t the best example to begin with, often drunk and unhappy. But he was accomplished, from an old book series he wrote. So we had money and all the things we could need to survive in life.”

“Then what happened?” Dean asked, curious.

“Well, half of us either went off the deep end and tried to tear each other apart, literally and metaphorically at times, or just hid and waited until graduation rolled around so we could escape and have ‘real lives.’”

“Oh,” Dean said softly, eyes downcast. “That sucks.”

“Yes,” Castiel hummed. “It did. I’m not sure when our older siblings finally pulled it together, or how our mother even let it go on as long as it did. But when we eventually graduated things got better, for a while.”

Castiel didn’t mention how Anna immediately moved in with a man she thought she could trust, or how he turned on her almost immediately and tried to drag her through hell and back. He almost succeeded too, if it weren’t for Castiel and Gabriel getting involved and helping her out of it.

It was a sore time for all of them, too many memories fresh of Michael and Lucifer trying to tear out each other’s throats or Lucifer pulling out a fire poker to get his point across.

But Anna’s story was not for Castiel to tell. Dean would have to learn that from her alone.

“There are other details, but I do want you to know I do understand. And I definitely do not pity  you, Dean. I don’t think anyone could pity you.”

Dean’s face turned a shade of red, but he smiled awkwardly and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever.”

His green eyes turned back to meet Castiel’s, and he smiled when he realized some of the life was starting to come back to him. It wasn’t nearly enough to get Dean back to normal, but it was definitely a start. Castiel was glad if he had any part in bringing it about.

“You hungry?” Dean said suddenly, again catching Castiel off guard. “Emma and Sam’ll probably be up soon, and if Bobby’s not in the garage then he’s out ‘researching.’”

“What does he research?” Castiel asked, but smiled when Dean stood and offered him a hand.

“Beats me,” Dean shrugged. “But it probably has to do with cars or Crowley. Now, in the meantime, I’m thinking eggs.”

Castiel took his hand and stood, blissfully happy when Dean allowed him to enter his personal space. They stared at each other a moment, then Castiel smiled and replied, “Eggs sound great, Dean.”

“Good,” Dean grinned back.

When Sam did eventually stumble into the kitchen with Emma on his hip, Dean and Cas stood by the stove, Dean working the bacon over onto a large plate and bickering with Castiel as he frantically pushed around the steaming eggs.

It was in that moment Castiel thought things might be okay after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys liked it! i'll see you next tuesday with the next update


	17. Bad Blood - Taylor Swift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! sorry for the super late posting, but ao3 crashed as you probably know and wouldn't let anyone on to upload or even read. but it's working now, so here's the next chapter update! i hope you guys like it!
> 
> warnings for flashback sequence (nothing physically abusive but threats and insinuations of physical violence). also angst.

Bad Blood - Taylor Swift

_Did you think we’d be fine? Still got scars on my back from your knife_

_So don’t think it’s in the past, these kinda wounds they last and they last._

 

 

_Emma was only a few months old. She was tiny, but Dean was certain she was maybe the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She was an infant angel, a small, precious thing just waiting to grow and bloom into even greater things. Dean couldn’t stop looking at her if he tried._

_He figured that would be fine with Abbi. After all, she’d put him in charge of caring for their daughter. He was the one who had to stay at home because Abbi was working. Where she was working now, Dean had no idea. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know either._

_All that mattered was Emma now. This beautiful, tiny child that he helped create. Emma was a gift. Dean was determined not to let anything happen to her._

_He carried her in his arms as he wandered throughout the house, staring at her big eyes that reminded Dean painfully of his mother._

_His mother, who would have loved Emma. She would have helped Dean pick out all the clothes for her granddaughter, been there for the birth, and would have been the first extended relative to hold Dean’s child._

_But that was a fantasy. If Mary were still alive, Dean probably wouldn’t have gotten in so deep with Abbi. He probably would’ve been safer, somehow._

_Mary wouldn’t have let any of this happen. But she would have loved Emma. And that’s all Dean could think about as he made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. It was nearing noon, and Dean knew Emma would get frustrated without her afternoon bottle._

_Everything was quiet throughout the house. Abbi was never home during the daylight hours, always missing somewhere unreachable until she came home smelling of other men and leather._

_It was why he didn’t expect to walk into the large, open kitchen, and see ten people sitting around the table with Abbi at the front._

_“Oh, Dean,” Abbi smiled, far too pleasant and promising. “Why don’t you get some drinks for all of us?”_

_Dean stared at her for all of three seconds before he nodded hastily and hurried over to Emma’s seat set up on the counter, setting her down and strapping her in so she wouldn’t flop out by accident, then rushed over to the fridge to start pulling drinks out._

_His eyes glanced over at the table, watching with worried interest as the group continued to talk in hushed voices._

_There were about six men and four women, aside from Abbi. Most of them were dressed in black, or varying shades of power colors. All of them had hard faces and pointed features. None of them appeared kind or reassuring._

_One man at the front, just at Abbi’s side, was a short weasly man with a beard. He had beady eyes, and the man seemed to watch Dean with interest as Dean set up glasses on a tray and poured shots of liquor and ice into each._

_He wasn’t stupid. He knew Abbi wanted the strong stuff, even if it was only halfway through the day. His knowledge was rewarded, too, when he brought the tray over and set the drinks down in front of each of the guests. Abbi stopped him when he reached her, taking his hand and placing a kiss to his palm._

_“Thank you Dean,” Abbi hummed. Dean only nodded and smiled back nervously. He didn’t dare speak back. Not while she had guests present. The last time he’d spoken out of turn she’d locked him in their bedroom until her meeting was over, and then proceeded to teach him exactly why not he should ever speak to her people without her approval. So instead of replying, he turned back to Emma, who was beginning to fuss after being left alone for so long._

_He barely made it two steps before the man who’d been watching him spoke, “So this is your fiance?”_

_Dean couldn’t tell if he sounded skeptical or impressed. He glanced back at Abbi, uncertain if he was meant to stay or go now._

_Abbi only glanced at him and turned back to the man beside her._

_“Dean Winchester,” she replied coolly, as though it hardly mattered. “He’s very useful around the house.”_

_The man’s beady eyes latched onto Dean with a renewed interest, and he tapped his knuckles against the wood of the table. “Useful,” he echoed. “In what ways?”_

_Abbi rolled her eyes, and Dean’s stomach twisted._

_“If you’re asking to share, Crowley, we’ll discuss it later.” Her eyes snapped to his, and Dean’s blood ran cold. “Dean, don’t you have something else you can be doing right now?”_

_He swallowed and nodded, going straight for Emma in a heartbeat. He refused to stay in that room another minute, even to get the baby food they came for originally. He’d just have to find the extra stash they had stored in the garage. Because feeling that man’s eyes on him were making him nauseous. It was bad enough listening to Abbi talk about him like an object. Being looked at like an object by more than one person? That was a little too much._

_He grabbed Emma and left without another word. He waited until all the guests left before he sought Abbi out again, knowing this time he could ask without fear of punishment._

_“What did you mean by sharing?” He asked quietly as she looked over their options for dinner._

_Abbi hummed and pulled out a glass and champagne. “You have many talents Dean,” she replied with a small smile. “You’re good around the house, you can take care of assets and responsibilities. And you’re drop dead gorgeous to look at. Who wouldn’t want you?”_

_Dean stared at her but didn’t reply. Abbi had a way of making dangerous statements sound like compliments. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked at the counter._

_“Are you… going to?” Dean finally asked, body tense and uncertain._

_He felt her fingernails scratch against the base of his neck until her palm was circled around the back. Her breath ghosted on his ear as she replied simply, “Don’t give me a reason to.”_

A month later he ran away. When Crowley dragged him back to Abbi kicking and screaming, he was sure he was going to die.

He used to think he knew what it meant to be sorry. He learned he was wrong.

Riot’s barking brought him out of his memories, and Dean snapped to attention as the monster dog dashed through the kitchen and out toward the front door where car doors were slamming closed.

Dean knew it was only Sam and Cas coming back from Cas’s house, getting more of his clothes so he might stay a few days longer. But it did nothing to calm his nerves, and he raced back up the stairs and locked the door to his room closed.

He moved toward the window and parted the curtains, double checking just in case.

Sure enough, down in the driveway was the Impala. Cas had a duffle bag slung over his trenchcoat-clad shoulder, making him look even more odd and out of place than usual. The man was frowning and speaking to Sam, who looked equally serious. Dean knew they were probably talking about him, or Crowley.

It’d been three days since the police sent out a physical description of Crowley and his thugs. So far, nothing had turned up. Just as Dean expected.

Crowley knew how to disappear, and more importantly, how to stay out of sight. That man wouldn’t be found even if the world depended on it. Dean wasn’t going to put his hopes high in anyone. Not in the police, and certainly not in Bobby and Sam’s combined researching skills.

If they weren’t able to find Abbi, then they _definitely_ weren’t going to find Crowley.

He sighed and watched them step inside. He heard Sam call his name and he rolled his eyes. He’d have to go back downstairs before Sam got worried. Again.

Sam seemed even more protective than usual. Dean hated it. He was almost kidnapped, sure. But Sam didn’t know who they were up against. If he knew, he’d probably have moved them out of the state.

Dean was determined to make sure that didn’t happen. Sam had a life after all, and Dean wasn’t going to be responsible for ruining it.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice continued to call, and Dean finally trudged back across his room to head downstairs.

“Here,” he shouted back. He stepped into the living room and watched as Sam straightened to attention, relief obvious. Cas, on the other hand, remained seated comfortably in front of Emma who was doing baby push-ups, a futile attempt to get on her knees and crawl.

Cas smiled at him and Dean flushed warm.

“Hello Dean,” he said kindly, almost as if he didn’t doubt for a second that Dean would still be present when they got home.

One glance at Sam said his brother didn’t believe the same. Dean wondered which of them were closer to the truth.

“Did you get to see Claire?” Dean asked, ignoring Sam’s eyes in favor of watching Cas play with Emma. Cas, who should be playing with Claire right now if it weren’t for him.

Castiel hesitated and frowned. It was all Dean needed to know. He hadn’t. It still wasn’t safe yet.

“ _Are you sure Crowley is that good a tracker?_ ” Sam had asked dozens of times over the past three days, as if Dean’s first answer wasn’t good enough.

Yes. Crowley was that good. And if he wanted Dean, he wasn’t going to stop till he got him. If that included going after Dean’s family to ensure it, then so be it. That’s how it worked.

“Where’s Bobby?” Sam asked, taking off his coat and looking around the room. Dean tried not to sigh in relief at his brother’s distraction.

“In the basement,” Dean replied. “He was checking out the security cameras and wanted to check on some old feeds.”

“Good,” Sam grunted. He glanced at Dean once more, eyes wary and alert. Dean wondered what he was thinking, but chose not to ask.

Whatever it was, Sam decided not to mention it, because a moment later he stepped out of the room and went for the stairs.

Dean chuckled, somewhat awkwardly, and asked, “So, what’s got his panties in a twist?”

Cas frowned and climbed up to his knees, placing his palms over his thighs. “We almost didn’t go in,” his friend replied. “The door’s lock was broken.”

Dean’s eyes widened in alarm, but Cas raised a hand to stop him from speaking.

“It’s fine,” Cas assured. “They didn’t take anything. But… it was clear someone other than my family had been inside.”

Dean’s jaw tightened, fists clenching. “I’m sorry Cas.”

“It’s not your fault Dean.” Cas’s voice was soothing. Dean was almost tempted to believe it. “Whatever situation you’re in, it’s not your fault. We just need to figure out what Crowley and his men want. Maybe there’s a way we can help you get out of this situation without any harm coming to you or your family.”

“Or your family,” Dean reminded.

Cas smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, my family. But we’ll be okay, Dean. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

Dean smiled back. He hoped it didn’t look as weak as it felt.

“We bought drinks while we were out,” Cas said after a moment, expression gentle. “Are you thirsty?”

Dean nodded shallowly. “Drinks sound great.”

Castiel smiled kindly and stood. “Sam put the beer in the cupboard.”

They grabbed the drinks together and sat at the table. They drank in silence for several minutes, Dean uncaring that it was only three in the afternoon. They could all use some alcohol after the week they were having.

“Are you alright Dean?” Castiel asked, maybe twenty minutes after they sat down.

Dean hummed in reply, taking another long drink to avoid answering.

“Peachy,” he finally grunted, dropping the bottle on the table.

Cas raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been quiet today, ever since we got back and before we left. Is there anything on your mind?”

“Aside from the obvious?” Dean snorted. At Cas’s stern expression, Dean sighed and took another drink. “Just thinkin’ it’s only a matter of time.”

“Until what?” Cas asked, face drawn in worry.

Dean stared at him for a moment, thinking. He opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of heavy footsteps silenced him.

“You two already broke into the beer stash?” Sam exclaimed.

“It was Cas’s idea,” Dean replied. “Feel free to get one yourself.”

“I’d hold back on that,” Bobby warned.

Dean and Cas glanced back at him, eyes narrowing at his tone. The older man’s gaze was blustery and dark. Dean knew he must have learned something new. It couldn’t be good.

“We got a recording of an unmarked vehicle near the property around last night. We’re gonna’ have to change locations or bunker down.”

“You’re serious,” Cas deadpanned.

Bobby nodded and pulled a gun off the wall, making Dean shiver.

“We’re gonna’ start moving things downstairs, unless any of you got a better place for us to go.”

“You’re thinking we stay and fight,” Dean guessed. Judging by Bobby’s face, he wasn’t far off the mark.

Bobby traded a look with Sam. Clearly they’d been talking about it.

Sam sighed and ran a hand down his face. “You say Crowley’s not going to stop until he gets a hold of you, or what he wants. We’re thinking you and Cas can bunk down in Bobby’s panic room and me and Bobby can have a face to face.”

Dean’s eyes widened in horror, heart racing.

“Sam,” he started, slow, “you don’t know what you’re getting into. Crowley isn’t like the guys we’ve faced before. He’s not like the guys dad tracked for all those years. He’s a _demon_. You’re not gonna’ stop him.”

“He won’t be alone Dean,” Bobby said, cocking his gun. “But there’s no way he’s gettin’ at you, son. Or Castiel here.”

Dean slammed his beer on the table and stood. “So what?” He snapped, “You’re just going to make some big final stand? Like the good ol’ days?” He shook his head and marched away. “Let me know how that works for you when you’re dead!”

Dean never saw Castiel's horrified expression, or Sam's guilty one. But no one went after him.

He figured it was better that way.

…

It was getting dark out before Dean saw any of them again. He sat in the panic room, tossing an old baseball over his head as he thought.

Sam and Bobby were idiots. They didn’t know Crowley like Dean did. They had no idea what they were going up against. The likelihood of something going wrong was too high.

Dean’s fist tightened around the ball and he sighed. There was nothing else for it. Dean swung his legs over the makeshift bed and reached down for the duffle bag he’d packed earlier. He needed to leave. He needed to beat them to Crowley before anybody could get hurt.

His fingers latched around the straps when Cas’s voice stopped him cold.

“What are you doing?”

Dean looked up in time to see Cas’s eyes widen in shock, his body rigid as his blue eyes danced between Dean and the bag.

Dean swallowed hard and looked away, guilty, but unrepentant. “I’m not letting Sam and Bobby kill themselves over this,” he stated. “I’m going to end this.”

“Like hell,” Castiel snapped, making Dean jump. He looked up as Cas marched toward him, pushing the bag away before glaring down at Dean in anger. “These men tried to kidnap you. _Hurt you_. Your brother and Bobby are trying to protect you because they care about you. _I’m_ here because I care about you. We’re not going to let you go and get yourself killed either.”

Dean stood up and shoved Cas’s shoulders, sending him back several feet before snarling, “You don’t get to decide what I can do, Cas! This is my life, and I’m the one who got into it with Abbi and Crowley. This is my fault this is happening, and it’s my damn fault that you idiots feel like you have to risk your lives for me. I’m not going to let this happen, no matter what the hell you say!”

He reached over for the duffle, mindful of Cas’s angry stare, and stood back up to full height, selfishly happy that he was an inch taller than the other man.

But Cas stood in the doorway, and Dean had no idea where Bobby and Sam were upstairs.

“Are you gonna’ get out of my way?” Dean said slowly.

Castiel’s gaze narrowed, jaw working as though he were trying not to say something he’d regret. Dean almost wished he would. It’d make this a hell of a lot easier.

If there was anybody in this world Dean didn’t want to hurt, it was Cas. He was one of the few, painfully honest and good people Dean knew. Cas didn’t deserve to get hurt, especially not because of Dean.

He counted down the seconds, waiting, almost praying for Cas to move. But the man stayed firmly in place, unflinching under Dean’s stare.

Dean bit his lip and shuffled on his feet, hesitation growing. He had to do this. He had to. Couldn’t Cas understand that?

But still, Cas didn’t move. Dean steeled himself and frowned, biting hard.

“Don’t make me do this, Cas,” he finally asked, weakening.

Castiel shook his head. His eyes looked sad. Dean’s heart burned.

“I can’t Dean,” he replied.

Dean’s grip on his duffle tightened and he shook his head.

“I get it,” he grumbled. “But this is what I--”

“Not alone,” Castiel interrupted.

Dean froze. He stared as Castiel stepped forward, unflinching as he placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“I would never let you go into danger alone Dean. I’ll go with you, and if you try to stop me, I’ll find Sam and Bobby and we’ll tie you to the chair until everything boils over.”

The resolve in his voice should have frightened Dean. But he only felt pride blooming in his chest as he grinned and handed over his bag.

“Know where Sam left the keys?”

Castiel grinned back and pulled the key chain out of his trench coat.

“Right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys liked it! apologies for any mistakes, i'll be going through this again a week from now to check for any errors.
> 
> next update will be next tuesday as usual! thanks for reading!


	18. Breathe - Superchick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING***
> 
> okay, before you read this chapter, i thought i should drop a warning that this chapter contains some *serious* dubious consent issues. it starts at the very beginning of the chapter, and tension carries throughout the rest of it. if dub-con or manipulated non-consensual kissing or touching is triggering for you, i recommend not reading this chapter. i'll provide notes at the end of this story so you'll be able to continue in the next chapter.
> 
> so, please proceed cautiously. again be warned: crowley is not a good/bad character, he's a bad/bad character. completely. but i have included some of his usual trademarks in this story. 
> 
> also, apologies for any typos or mistakes. i didn't edit much before posting. i'll edit later this week. thank you!

Breathe - Superchick

_Please tell me you'll fight this fight_

_I can't see without your light_

_I need you to breathe into my life_

 

Castiel’s breath froze in his throat as he watched Crowley grab Dean’s face in his hands and pull him into a bruising kiss.

His mind short-circuited. He didn’t focus on the hands of the bodyguards at his own arms, or all the escape routes he’d been busy formulating up till that point. All he could focus on was Dean. Dean, who’s face was pinched in disgust and pain, even as Crowley’s fingers pushed back into Dean’s hair and tugged back, changing the angle to make the kiss deeper.

This was wrong. Castiel didn’t care why it happened. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to leave. He couldn’t understand why they were there at all.

He remembered agreeing to go with Dean. He knew it was his idea to let Dean go at all. But now he was torn with regret, and he couldn’t help struggling against the hands on him.

He wanted to punch Crowley in his smirking face, hating the way he grinned as he pulled away from Dean.

This was a terrible mistake.

…

_Two hours earlier_

The Impala rumbled beneath their feet as Dean drove them down the highway. Castiel had wondered how Dean planned on finding Crowley himself, after Bobby, Sam, _and_ the police had fruitlessly searched for him for days.

Dean had simply shrugged his shoulders and turned into the next lane.

“He’s probably tracking my credit card purchases,” Dean explained. “The plan is to buy something big and noticeable, get Crowley’s attention and bring him straight to us.”

“What do you plan on buying?” Castiel asked.

Dean grinned, but it looked cold. It wasn’t reassuring.

He didn’t respond for twenty minutes, not until they pulled up in front of a convenience store near the outskirts of town. Castiel followed Dean inside and watched him browse the card section. Dean stared at the rows for several long moments, before abruptly reaching out and grabbing multiple cards at once.

Castiel stared at them as Dean poured them out on the counter, ignoring the stunned look of the cashier.

“Why those ones?” Castiel asked. Some of them were mother’s day cards, some of them had puppies or cats. One of them had a cartoon alligator reading ‘condolences.’ Castiel briefly wondered what an alligator had to do with grieving, but focused instead on Dean, who was growing increasingly quiet. Castiel was worried.

“Abbi had a system,” Dean explained curtly, handing over his credit card. “I figured it out in the… early days. Back when we were pretending things were fine.” The cashier handed Dean back the cards in a bag and he smiled curtly before grabbing Castiel’s wrist, tugging him outside and back to the Impala.

“And then?” Castiel dared asked, fighting down a blush when Dean’s grip tightened.

Dean swallowed and stared at the engine. “She might have changed the code,” he replied instead, sudden. “But if anybody’ll get it, it’s Crowley.”

Castiel nodded as Dean let go of him, instead moving to the driver’s seat and keying the ignition. Castiel was quick to climb in the passenger side and watch as Dean pulled back out onto the highway.

“What does the code say?” Castiel asked.

Dean worked his jaw in silence for a few moments. Quietly, he replied, “An address to meet.”

They lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive. At one point or another, Dean turned on the radio and quickly found an old hits station. It was just enough to cover the edges of tension, but not enough to be calming.

It was an hour before they stopped in front of a run down warehouse. It was far out of the way of everything. The neighborhood didn’t look dangerous, but it didn’t look welcoming or comfortable. Castiel licked his lips and leaned forward, staring out the windshield at their surroundings.

He could imagine all the things that could go wrong. But he tried not to dwell on it. He was here to support Dean. He needed to focus on that. Dean was what mattered.

He leaned back in his seat again and sighed.

“How long do you think it’ll be?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

Dean shrugged and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Twenty minutes, if he’s watching,” Dean replied. “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.”

“You know him well, then.”

“I wish I didn’t.” Dean’s tone was dark, serious. Castiel shivered and looked away.

“Can… Cas, can we talk about something else?” He suddenly asked, voice breathy and hesitant. Castiel glanced back at him and frowned.

Dean looked paler than he did when they left. His fingers were playing with the heater dial, cranking up the heat even though it was already warm inside. Castiel wanted to pull his hands away, warm them between his own if he was cold.

But he knew touch was unwanted right now. He folded his hands over his lap and looked out the window.

“What would you like to talk about?” Castiel asked.

Dean laughed, dry, humorless. “I don’t know, man. Anything. Talk about work. Talk about how annoying working for my brother must be. Anything’s fine, Cas.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply. They sat in silence for a few moments until he thought of something to say.

“I’m currently working on publishing a novel.”

“Wait,” Dean said, eyebrows raising. “Seriously?”

Castiel smirked. “Yes. Only Anna and Sam know. I’ve been hoping to transition out of my job at the firm and get a lower maintenance job that will give me more time to write and spend time with Claire.”

“I guess you always looked like the writer type,” Dean chuckled.

Castiel smiled. Some color had returned to Dean’s cheeks, and his smile looked easy. It relieved the tension from Castiel’s body as he nodded and leaned back.

“That’s what Sam said,” he continued. “But he and Charlie were working together to maybe find a new job opportunity for me. She and Benny offered to let me work there part time if I ever needed to, but I’m hoping that won’t be the case. I don’t want to be a bother to my friends, or make them feel as though they have to make room for me until I figure something else out.”

“I know the feeling,” Dean nodded. “It just gets… tiring.”

“Exactly,” Castiel agreed. “But I love them for trying. Even if it’s not what I want, it means everything that they’re willing to do things like that for me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at that, looking skeptical. “I always figured they should just keep their hands off. If they really cared, wouldn’t they just let you figure it out on your own terms?”

Castiel hesitated. He had a feeling they weren’t talking about jobs anymore.

“It’s important that they respect my choice,” Castiel replied slowly. “But I’d be worried if they didn’t try to help me at all.”

Silence passed between them. Dean still looked skeptical, but Castiel was pleased to see his features softening, accepting. He nodded slowly and looked away.

“I can understand that, I think,” Dean replied finally.

Castiel smiled and glanced outside as well.

That’s when his heart nearly leapt out of his throat.

Three men were walking towards their vehicle. They moved down the sidewalk, dark clothes nearly disguising them in the darkness. Castiel swallowed and glanced at Dean, unhappy to notice that Dean looked as distressed as Castiel felt.

“Is that them?” Castiel asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Dean nodded slowly and shivered. He reached for the key, as if to turn off the ignition, and glanced at Castiel.

“We can still back out,” Dean said. “If you want. I’d understand.”

Castiel shook his head and reached out, placing a hand over Dean’s. Dean didn’t flinch or pull away. Castiel hoped it was a good thing.

“I’m here to support you Dean,” he replied calmly. “I won’t leave.”

Dean nodded and turned off the ignition. The car went still beneath them, and with it, their breathing halted.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Dean said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“I’m not,” Castiel replied.

Dean didn’t have time to respond before the men outside knocked on the window.

“ _Open the door_ ,” the leader called.

Dean shook himself and nodded, waving the men to step back. He cast one last glance at Castiel, then opened the door.

The men led them inside the warehouse. Inside wasn’t any more pleasant than the outside, and Castiel wondered where Dean got this address from. When had Dean ever been _here_?

He swore he heard mice squeaking as they passed through some doors, coming into a large open area within the building.

There were three chairs present. In the first sat a weasly man with dark eyes. Castiel immediately knew it was Crowley.

“Dean,” he crooned, grinning proudly. “I never thought you’d have it in you.”

Dean stared at him blankly, unfaltering as the men pushed them toward the remaining chairs.

“Have a seat,” Crowley waved his hand. His eyes danced toward Castiel and he smiled curiously. “You as well…”

“He’s my friend,” Dean stated calmly as they took their seats.

Castiel’s heart fluttered at the statement, but he steeled himself. The look on Crowley’s face appeared pleasant and calm. But even Castiel could see the underlying tension, the unease and predatory gaze he focused on Dean.

There was something disturbing in the air between them. Castiel didn’t like it. He hoped this wasn’t a bad idea.

“A friend,” Crowley echoed. “The same friend who you’ve spent nearly half your time with since moving to California, Dean.” Crowley glanced between them, a darker expression crossing his features. “Castiel Novak. I already know who he is, Winchester. Did you expect anything less?”

Dean shook his head slowly. Castiel noticed the way his face was steadily paling. Again.

Castiel shifted in his seat and stared at the man in front of them.

“We want to know what you want with us,” Castiel said when Dean didn’t speak.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and smirked. “With ‘us’? Well, wouldn’t that be something.” He leaned forward and folded his hands neatly over his lap. “All I want is something Dean has. Something only he can give me.”

The predatory gaze was back. It made Castiel uncomfortable. He hoped Dean knew what he was doing.

“What do I have that you want?” Dean asked, quiet. “When Abbi died I only took myself and Emma away from that place. Everything in Abbi’s will was left to her organizations.”

Crowley shook his finger and grinned. “Ah, but she didn’t,” he replied. “She only left her titles to her operations. The money, however, was left in a trust. Guess who’s name is on it, Winchester?”

Dean’s eyes widened. Castiel watched him in confusion.

“Abbi wouldn’t leave me anything,” Dean said slowly, carefully. “I was only there to keep her entertained. Why would she care about leaving _anything_ for me?”

Crowley shrugged. He didn’t look concerned. “Beats me,” he replied. “The old hag kept her secrets. You did me a blessing when you killed her, Dean. I never got the chance to thank you for that.”

Dean sucked in a breath, fists tightening at his sides. Castiel could only stare.

Sam and Dean had helpfully avoided that fact. He watched Dean carefully. He didn’t fail to notice the way Dean avoided his gaze now, pointed his body away from him like he was ashamed.

That wouldn’t do.

“It’s alright Dean,” Castiel said softly, wishing they were in private. Dean glanced at him anxiously, but nodded slowly and leaned back in his seat.

“What do you want from me then?” Dean finally asked. “I didn’t even know she left me anything. How am I supposed to help you?”

“I’m glad you asked.”

Crowley stood and motioned for one of his men to step forward. They handed a pile of documents over to the man, and he stepped towards Dean until their knees were practically touching. Dean leaned as far back into his seat as possible, beginning to visibly sweat.

“I have some documents for you to sign,” Crowley replied. “We could have sorted this out days ago, if you hadn’t been so adamant to run away. Unfortunately, now we’re here, and you’ve made a proper mess of things.”

Dean swallowed and glanced between the paper work and Crowley’s face. “I can sign it,” Dean promised. “Just give me a pen. I just want this to be over.”

“Dean,” Castiel started, warning, “you don’t know what any of those documents are. He could be lying to you.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Crowley grinned. “But I expect a signature Dean. Today.”

Dean shivered and stared at the documents.

“Can I read them first?” Dean asked quietly.

Crowley frowned.

“That will cost you something,” Crowley replied. “As you well know.”

“Dean?” Castiel asked, confused.

Dean glanced between him and Crowley. He looked scared. Castiel wished he knew why. He wished he could reach out and pull him away from the room, away from these men and the terror they were clearly instilling in Dean’s mind. He wished he _understood_.

“Crowley’s… a businessman,” Dean explained slowly. “He never gives away anything. Information, recourses. He makes trades.” He swallowed and glanced at the papers, then Crowley again. “What do you want?”

“A kiss,” Crowley smiled, rows of white teeth shining in the stale light. At Dean’s horrified look, he quickly added, “Don’t worry. Just one. But it better count.”

Dean glanced at Castiel, silently searching for support. Castiel’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched. He wanted to shake his head no. He hated seeing Dean’s fear, his hesitation. If Castiel could have it his way, he’d never let Crowley kiss Dean.

But after everything that happened, this was all Crowley wanted? Castiel glanced down, uncertain. When he looked up again, Dean nodded in understanding.

He looked up at Crowley and nodded. “Fine. Deal.”

“Deal,” Crowley echoed. Then his fingers latched onto Dean’s face and tugged him forward, hard.

“No-!” Castiel said, but hands descended on his shoulders and arms, rooting him firmly in place.

Dean’s fists tightened at his sides till they were white. His face twisted in disgust, pain, only amplified when Crowley pulled his head back for a deeper angle.

Castiel felt fury build in the pit of his stomach. He fought to control himself, helpless as Crowley kissed Dean like they were lovers with hours on their hands, not signing a contract so Dean could live his life in peace.

Castiel swore it felt like hours. But it ended after a minute, and Crowley pulled away with an audible pop. He laughed when Dean ducked his head, furiously wiping at his lips to get the taste away. Castiel couldn’t blame him for a second.

“Perfect,” Crowley cooed. He dropped the pile of documents in Dean’s lap and waved his hand.

“Read away,” he said. “Everything should be in order.” He sat back in his chair and leaned back, watching as Dean started tearing through the documents. He locked eyes with Castiel after a moment and tilted his head. “You can read with him, if you like. You work in a firm. Maybe you’ll hurry this process.”

It was all the permission Castiel needed. The hands left him and Castiel threw himself toward Dean’s chair, latching his hand onto the chair and Dean’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, grateful for the closeness. Crowley wouldn’t be able to hear his words if he remained quiet enough.

He stared at Dean’s face, horrified when a single tear slid down his face. Dean wiped it away almost instantly, eyes furious as he tore through the pages.

“‘M fine,” he grunted. Castiel didn’t bother correcting him, even though he could see the way his hands were shaking.

Castiel reached down and pulled the papers out of Dean’s hands. “Let me,” he replied softly.

Dean didn’t fight him, but Castiel could feel his eyes on him regardless. Castiel turned each page slowly, examining each paragraph carefully.

It probably took longer with Castiel’s eyes instead of Dean’s. Dean likely would have rushed through it, demanded a pen, and made himself scarce if it were up to him. But Castiel wouldn’t allow Dean to be blindsided. He wouldn’t let Crowley take any more than what he was promising.

If Castiel could help it, he wouldn’t let anything else happen to Dean. Not tonight, and not ever.

It could have been twenty or thirty minutes later when Castiel nodded, dropping the final page and handing the pile back to Dean.

“It’s safe,” he reassured.

Dean smiled weakly and placed a hand over Castiel’s, shocking him into silence. The other man’s touch was warm, electric. Castiel’s fingers wrapped around his and he smiled kindly.

“It’ll be fine,” Castiel finished.

“Well, thank you for letting us all know what I already knew,” Crowley called, drawing away their attention from each other. The shorter man stood and walked over to them, stuffing his hands in his pockets before leaning over Dean and the documents. “Now, are you going to sign them or not?”

Castiel wanted to shove the man away. He wanted to grip Dean by his shoulders and drag him out of this hell once and for all. He hated everything about this. He wanted Dean to be safe. He wanted to go home to his daughter and curl up on the sofa, without having to fear about who might be coming after his family or Dean’s. He wanted to go back to normal, when he and Dean sat in Anna’s living room and played with their daughters, or when he, Dean, and the rest of their friends got together for drinks or dinner on the weekend.

He wanted this to be over.

Dean nodded sharply and tightened his hold on the documents. “I just need a pen. It’s yours,” Dean replied.

Crowley grinned.

“I’d love to give you a pen,” he said after a moment, and Castiel felt his heart sink. “But what was it you said about me?”

_He only works in trades_ , Castiel’s mind helpfully supplied. Castiel stopped himself from swearing just in time.

He felt Dean shiver under his touch. Castiel tightened his grip, hoping it was reassuring.

“This time I expect something extra,” Crowley explained. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, pretending to think about it for a few moments, before his eyes glinted and he finished, “Let’s see. Back in the day, I seem to remember asking Abbi to share you with me. Just for a weekend, honestly. But she had quite the hold on you. Never let anyone touch you but herself, and myself, but only when we had to track you down to that motel in South Dakota.”

Dean shivered again, his eyes widening a fraction. Castiel wished, not for the first time, that he understood. He didn’t like not knowing. He especially didn’t like not knowing why all these words were hurting Dean the way they did.

“If she’d let me, we could have had a lot of fun together Dean,” Crowley continued, almost _giddy_. “It wouldn’t have just been sex you know. It would have been triplets, money, tearing up the town… hell, I’d even let you do anything you wanted for a day.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head sadly. “Well, the things we lose over time.”

Crowley leaned forward and grinned darkly, sending shivers up Castiel’s spine as Dean leaned away.

“We don’t have to go too far if you don’t want, Dean,” Crowley said, sounding far too innocent for his obvious intentions. “But I would like to get a taste of what I’ve been denied.”

“You already did,” Dean snarled, catching them both by surprise with his intensity.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. His smile didn’t waver. His hand shot up to Dean’s face and clutched hard. Castiel jumped, hand acting out on it’s own until his fingers were wrapped tight around the man’s wrist. He tightened his grip until Crowley gasped in pain.

“Let him go,” Castiel growled, even when his men rushed forward to rip Castiel away. “You leave him alone!”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but he did let go of Dean’s face, not missing Dean’s sigh of relief.

“Now,” Crowley tried again, clearly trying not to frown. “You can either sign this document with a pen, or with your blood. Which would you prefer?”

Dean stared at him in silence, unmoving. Crowley grinned in triumph and reached forward, hands immediately going to Dean’s sides.

Castiel struggled, but before he could even make a break for it, Crowley’s hands latched onto the skin of Dean’s hips and Dean spasmed backward. Before anyone could react, Dean brought his wrist up to his mouth and bit down. Castiel stared in horror as skin broke and blood erupted from the wound.

Crowley pulled away, just enough for Dean to run his shaking finger through the mess and sign a large ‘x’ on the dotted line.

Dean glared up at Crowley, eyes challenging. Crowley stared back in surprise. He almost looked proud. Castiel wanted to kill him.

“I suppose I did say you could do one or the other,” Crowley said slowly. He reached into his pocket and handed Dean a pen. “I’ll save you the trouble of staining the rest of the pages.”

He stepped away and motioned to his men. They let Castiel go once more and he rushed to Dean’s side.

“C-Cas,” Dean gasped, shoving his hands away from the pages before the blood could drip across the words. “I need help,” he whispered.

Castiel nodded silently and pulled off his trench coat. He grabbed Dean’s wrist and wrapped the material around it, using the strap to tighten it over the wound.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” he said, gently rubbing his hands over Dean’s covered wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dean replied. “Just help me sign the damn papers already?”

Castiel nodded wordlessly and grabbed the pen. He made quick work of the rest of the signatures, taking care to keep all of the lines the same as the first. His stomach somersaulted at the sight of Dean’s blood, but he swallowed and pressed on. This was for Dean. He needed to remember that now.

When it was done he picked up the documents and tossed them at Crowley, uncaring if one dropped by his feet. He was done. He was getting Dean out of there.

“We’re leaving,” Castiel stated, calmer than he felt. He watched Crowley and his men, waiting to see if they’d stop them.

Crowley only glanced at the documents and sighed. “If this doesn’t work, then don’t be surprised if you see me again.” He snapped his fingers and the men immediately left the room. Crowley followed close behind them, only stopping by Dean’s chair. Dean pulled away hard, body falling into Castiel’s. He felt Dean pull at his shirt. He didn’t mind. He kept his gaze focused on Crowley.

“For the record,” Crowley said after a moment, “I always thought Abbi underestimated you.”

Dean didn’t reply. Castiel held tight to Dean’s shoulders until Crowley finally left the room.

Castiel felt the tension immediately drain out of Dean’s body when the door slammed behind them. His head dropped against Castiel’s side. Castiel wasn’t ashamed to pull him closer, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders.

They didn’t move for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, apologies for the angst. next chapter will have some of sam's pov because dean and cas snuck out without telling him or bobby. so that will be addressed next tuesday. (maybe monday, since tuesday will be busy for me. we'll see.) either way, see you next week!
> 
> NOTES FOR WHAT HAPPENED THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> 1\. Dean and Castiel snuck out to confront Crowley without Sam and Bobby's knowledge  
> 2\. Dean knows how to draw Crowley out of hiding, so he made a large purchase of cards with a code that revealed an address for Crowley to meet them at.  
> 3\. On the way there, Castiel helped calm Dean's nerves by discussing his own personal life. Dean learns that Castiel is an aspiring novelist. They discuss jobs, and Castiel helps Dean come to terms with people helping him when he's struggling.  
> 4\. They meet with Crowley. He wants Dean's signature because Abbi left him her fortune in a trust fund unavailable to her supporters and co-workers. He refused to let Dean read the documents that would sign over his rights to the fund to Crowley, and only let him on the condition that he let Crowley kiss him for it.  
> 5\. Castiel proofread the documents. They were genuine.  
> 6\. Crowley gave Dean an ultimatum. He could either let Crowley kiss him again, this time with added sexual advances, or he could sign the documents with his own blood. He started to touch Dean and Dean bit himself to draw blood to sign with.   
> 7\. Crowley took the documents and left. Castiel comforted Dean.


	19. Heal - Tom Odell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, i'm sorry i missed the update last week, but i was getting ready for college classes and that was super fun... ha. and technically, i shouldn't have been able to update this week either with the schedule i had. but i am nothing without some level of commitment, and i wouldn't dare leave you hanging another week. SO HERE YOU GO AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.
> 
> also, please note, tags and summary have changed. i may change archive warnings as well. thank you.
> 
> WARNINGS: discussion of rape and implied rape. also, warnings for very poor coping skills. (both from dean and sam. god bless cas and bobby for their patience and understanding.)

Heal - Tom Odell

_Take my mind and take my pain_

_Like an empty bottle takes the rain_

_And heal, heal, heal, heal_

 

Sam cursed and tossed his phone in the backseat, ignoring Bobby’s withering stare beside him.

This had to be a new low. Even for Dean. They’d been circling the perimeter, checking the security cameras that were fizzling out and making sure Bobby’s traps were set. Spikes in the road for cars, wiring the doorknobs for electrical shocks, anything that Bobby considered to be helpful was put back in place. The plan was to bunker down in the house, wait and see who came. They already had tapes of Crowley’s men watching them. It was only a matter of time before they moved.

They just didn’t expect Dean to move first, or for Castiel to go with him.

Sam cursed again and pressed on the gas. They were only lucky they had GPS tracking on Dean’s phone.

Why Dean would keep his phone with him, and on, was beyond Sam. Why he’d go at all was also a mystery. But Sam was determined to figure it out. As soon as he chewed Dean out for running away like that.

He just hoped they were alright.

“Did ya’ try calling him?”

Sam shook his head. “Already tried. Five times. It’s either on silent or he’s ignoring me.” _Or worse_.

Bobby grunted and stared out the windshield.

“What about Cas?”

Sam glanced at him.

“Call him.”

…

Castiel estimated about fifteen minutes before Dean finally shifted, his grip on Castiel’s shirt loosening as he pulled away.

The eldest Winchester squinted at the floor, shoulders tense. He muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Castiel replied.

He reached down for Dean’s hands, helping him back to his feet. Dean swayed slightly, but remained upright. His eyes were dark and downcast. His head hung low, eyes darting away from his in an effort to avoid eye contact.

“Cas,” Dean continued, quiet, “about what Crowley said… about Abbi…”

“You don’t have to talk about it right now,” Castiel said, raising a hand. “I want to know, but don’t feel like you have to explain. At least not here. It’s alright.”

It wasn’t. But Dean nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Can we go?”

Castiel nodded.

They made their way toward the doors, leaving behind the room and three chairs. Castiel could only focus ahead. If he ever thought about what happened in that room again, he feared it would be too soon. He couldn’t bear to remember the way Dean’s face contorted in pain, or the way he wrenched away from Crowley and broke his own skin.

He shivered and glanced at Dean as they stepped out into the darkness.

Dean looked tired, haggard. Every step he took seemed weighted and slow. Even in the low and fragmented lights on the street, Castiel could see a slight tremor in his hands, the tenseness in his jaw, and the tight frown that showed the eldest Winchester was clearly fighting something.

He watched as Dean pulled out the keys to the Impala, clutch them tight in his fist.

“Dean… would you like me to--”

He didn’t have time to finish. Dean shoved the keys at him, waiting until Castiel reached out and took them. Their fingers touched and lingered. Castiel watched Dean swallow before he stormed toward the Impala, hands shoved in his pockets once again.

Castiel sighed and tightened his hold on the keys.

He started to walk after Dean when his phone buzzed in his pants pocket. He glanced down, surprised. He thought he’d left it behind.

He pulled the phone out and stared at the caller I.D. It was Bobby. He winced and accepted the call.

“Bobby,” he replied.

“ _Well shit_ ,” Bobby growled. “ _At least one of you two got the brains to answer._ ”

“It’s over Bobby.”

There was silence for several moments. Then, Sam’s voice came on the line.

“ _What do you mean it’s over? What happened? Where’s Dean?_ ”

Castiel sighed. He could see Dean through the car windows. His head was in his hands, in his own world.

“Dean’s in the car. We’re… safe. Crowley and his people left a half hour ago.”

 _“And you didn’t think to call?”_ Bobby snapped. “ _We were worried sick! Came back in and no one was home. What do you think we’d do?_ ”

“Where are you now?” Castiel asked.

“ _Few blocks away, now_ ,” Bobby replied. “ _Stay where you are_.”

Castiel acknowledged the request and hung up. He looked back at Dean, noting he hadn’t changed positions.

He walked over and opened the car door, sitting on the driver’s side so he could look at Dean closer.

“How’s your wrist?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged and leaned back in his seat. He raised his arm and pulled back Castiel’s trenchcoat bandage. The bite sized wound was still pushing out blood sluggishly, but it came in large drops that made Castiel flinch.

“It’ll be fine,” Dean grunted, pushing the jacket back over the injury. “I’ll buy you a new coat Cas. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Castiel said, again. He sighed internally, wondering how many times he’d have to say it before Dean believed it.

“Sam and Bobby are a few blocks away. I don’t know how they knew you’d be here, but they’re coming.”

Dean chuckled. It was low and dry, grating.

“Figured they’d track my phone. That’s why I left it on. In case anything happened.”

Castiel swallowed and nodded. Disturbing or not, it was fair.

“They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Dean sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. “Alright.”

…

When Sam pulled up the street in Bobby’s pickup, Castiel was already out of the Impala waiting.

“Where is he?” Sam asked, cutting the engine and climbing out. Bobby wasn’t far behind, expression grim.

“In the passenger seat,” Castiel replied softly, raising a hand. “Sam, I want to talk to you before you talk to him.”

Sam nodded and glanced at Bobby.

The older man shrugged and waved his hands. “Get on with it.”

Sam followed Castiel a ways down the sidewalk until they stood by doors to a warehouse. Sam stared up at it, wondering if this was the building they met at.

Castiel coughed into his arm, and Sam noticed his friend’s trademark coat was gone.

“Dean bit himself,” Castiel explained, vague, “I used my coat as a bandage.”

“He _bit_ himself?” Sam exclaimed. “Why? What happened?”

Castiel shook his head, eyes darting between the Impala and Sam.

“Dean used an old system that Abbi used to contact her people in the past. It was a longshot, but it worked, and we met Crowley here at the warehouse.”

“Did you find out what he wanted?” Sam demanded.

Castiel glared. “Yes,” he snapped. “I didn’t understand all of it, but Crowley made it very clear that Abbi left money in a trust for Dean to take after her death. Crowley wanted the money and Dean signed over the rights to the inheritance, giving it all to Crowley.”

“God, Cas, did you even _look_ at it--”

“Yes!” Castiel interrupted. Sam bit his tongue, knowing he should apologize.

Castiel continued before Sam could speak.

“However, Sam… he made _suggestions_. He wouldn’t let Dean do anything unless he traded Crowley for it.”

“Traded?”

“Dean wasn’t allowed to read the contracts unless he let Crowley kiss him.”

Sam’s body stiffened. He glared at the ground, trying to picture his brother in that kind of situation. He cursed and ran a hand over his face. “What else?”

“After Dean and I read the contracts he tried to make a trade again, this time so Dean could sign the papers.”

Sam stared at him. Castiel shivered and crossed his arms.

“Sam, he made it sound as though he was going to sexually assault him.”

“He didn’t,” Sam growled, hoping it hid his fear. “He _didn’t_. Right?”

He watched his friend shudder again. Sam felt like his heart stopped beating.

“He touched him, but Dean… I don’t know what happened. One moment he was going to let him… do that… and the next he bit his wrist and signed the papers with his fingers.”

“God.”

“Crowley gave him a pen after that. Said something about Abbi always underestimating Dean. But Sam,” Castiel’s gaze was insistent, “he acted like this was something they’d done before. He even suggested it. I don’t… do you think?”

“Don’t say that,” Sam snapped, instantly regretting it when Castiel’s face tightened in anger.

“Hasn’t it already been proven we know next to nothing about what Dean went through while he was living with his fiance? Don’t we already know that there’s more to all of this than he’s let on? We _owe_ it to Dean to be open and compassionate to anything he went through. We can’t pick and choose what we get to deal with here. I’m asking you if you think it’s entirely possible in any way if Dean’s been--”

“Please don’t say it.” Sam raised his hands in defeat. He took a step back and sighed. His body felt like it’d been crushed by a building. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Not for anything.

His eyes felt hot. He rubbed at them furiously and sighed again.

“You’re right,” he finally replied, measuring his breathing. “We need to be there for him. _I_ need to be there. For whatever it is. I’m sorry.”

Castiel deflated, suddenly looking ten years older than he truly was. It broke something inside of Sam. He could only imagine what it felt like to be in the room, watching as his brother went through hell.

He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to see Dean.

“I should talk to him.”

Castiel nodded tiredly. When Sam moved to step away, Castiel stopped him.

His gaze was steady as he explained, “Crowley promised he would not come for any of us again if the contracts went through. I think it’s over.”

Sam nodded. He patted his friend on the shoulder twice, squeezing tight in reassurance.

“Thank you.”

They walked back to Bobby’s pickup. Bobby was sitting on the trunk of the Impala, watching them carefully as they returned.

“Did you try to talk to him?” Sam asked.

Bobby nodded. “Idjit locked the door. Doesn’t seem interested in talkin’ right now.”

Sam shook his head and walked around the vehicle, leaning down until he could get a good look at his older brother inside.

Dean was covering his face with his hand. His wrist and arm was wrapped tightly by Castiel’s coat, but Sam could still see stains of red on Dean’s fingers and on the tan material of the ‘bandage.’

Sam’s stomach flipped as he tapped on the window, staring as Dean visibly flinched inside.

“Dean, it’s Sam. I want to talk to you.”

Dean glanced at him through his fingers, eyes cold and vacant. Sam felt sick.

Yet, Dean slowly lowered his hand and reached out. The sound of the door unlocking was like a chorus of angels. Sam pulled open the door and squatted on the ground, now level with Dean.

“Cas told me what happened,” Sam murmured. “I know.”

Dean’s gaze snapped to his. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Sam wondered how Dean would react. He wondered if Dean would call his bluff, or equate it to something about Abbi or their relationship.

But he didn’t. He stared, silent, for a horribly long minute. Then, something visibly cracked, and Sam watched in horror as his brother broke to pieces in front of him.

Dean’s hand returned to his face before the worst of the tears could fall. His shoulders heaved, and his body caved forward as though he could no longer keep himself upright.

Sam grabbed his arms and pulled, unsure if he should be relieved or angry when Dean slammed his fist against Sam’s chest.

“You don’t know _anything_!” Dean roared, fist pounding and unstopping. “You don’t get to say that! Just _shut up_!”

Sam didn’t let go. He ignored Castiel’s crestfallen eyes, or the lingering horror in Bobby’s. He closed his eyes and held tighter, even when Dean jerked and tried to headbutt him away.

“I’m sorry,” Sam muttered, almost repeatedly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“ _You don’t get to be sorry_!” Dean screamed, shuddering against Sam’s body. “You don’t _know_. Just… just _stop_.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean shuddered one last time before he went limp in Sam’s arms, body still trembling in silent sobs. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and held his brother close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll see you guys next tuesday with the next update! again, sorry for the lateness. i believe we're entering the last quarter of the story now. all that's left is healing... and more destiel bonding. but as always, healing and friendships come first.
> 
> see you guys next tuesday! please let me know what you think. i wrote this way past my bedtime so if there are any mistakes, i will fix them later this week. thank you!


	20. All of the Stars - Ed Sheeran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! thank you for waiting so patiently for the next update... i was facing a lot of writer's block about how to proceed. i asked a few friends, and it was neatly divided down the middle of 'angst everyone to death!' and 'eh, take a break.'
> 
> so, after taking some time away to myself, i decided to take a stress break and let you guys have some fluff :) you've all earned it. i hope you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> usual warnings for discussion of past abuse and sexual assault. (but it's mostly fluff! i promise!)

All of the Stars - Ed Sheeran

_ So open your eyes and see, the way our horizons meet  _

_ And all of the lights will lead, into the night with me _

 

It was a month later. Dean was there to see his brother turn another year older. He was there with all of their friends, cheered drinks with Cas and Charlie, teased Sam with Gabe and Benny without abandon, and pretended they didn’t have a single reason to be worried about anything.

Despite everyone knowing a little about what Dean had recently gone through, his friends were kind to stay silent, choosing to give Dean time till he was ready to open up.

Dean appreciated that. He loved them even more for it, especially as they all came together to give Sam the best birthday they were able to. They had to make up for Dean’s missing years, after all.

But the best part of it was hosting Emma’s first birthday party right along side Sam’s. It’d been Bobby’s idea. Something about their dates being so close, they may as well celebrate at the same time.

Dean wanted to cry. His little girl was one year old. She was officially beginning to crawl, finally having learned to get her knees beneath her. She was beautiful, sitting like an angel next to Sam in her high chair as their friends and family toasted another year to life, and this time, being together.

Charlie and Gabe got appropriately tipsy in the celebration. Cas was stone faced, making it impossible to tell if he was drunk or not, but Dean did catch his friend squinting at his fingers.

“I’ve always been able to hold liquor well,” Cas confessed when he caught Dean trying to feed him more beers. “But I think I’m beginning to feel something.”

Dean had simply laughed and pushed another can into his hand. Cas had scowled at him but drank it anyway. Dean took it as a personal win and clapped him on the back.

But the party was _great_. It was more than Dean could have hoped for. After Abbi, after Crowley, he _needed_ happy. He needed normal, and he needed family without the tension surrounding everything they’d gone through. He missed the way they were before Abbi tore apart their lives, and _his_ life. He missed the ease between him and Bobby. He missed being able to talk to Sam about everything, never having to worry about unwanted discussions aside from teasing about girls and hair products.

It was like they didn’t have that anymore. Not after everything that happened. But now, after witnessing his daughter turn another year old, watching his brother grow up another year, Dean caught a glimpse of it. Their life before. Their ease before.

What was better, they had even more friends than before. Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever had so many friends before. He had Benny’s dry sarcasm and Charlie’s friendly wit. He had Gabe and his tricks, and he’d even gotten Bobby back with all his grunting and bushy smiles.

And he had Cas. Castiel, with his sharp blue eyes and quiet comfort. Cas and his patience. Castiel and his horrible fashion sense, but unending love for Claire, and Emma.

Dean caught himself glancing at Cas the entire night, watching him chide Gabe for drinking too much. He saw Cas laugh with Sam about some inside joke about the firm. He sat next to him as Sam opened his gifts, their shoulders and knees brushing, but neither of them mentioning it once.

The very air about Cas was so… soft. It’d been a month since Crowley, and Dean hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. How Cas didn’t blame Dean for his past ruining their lives. How Cas refused to let Dean face Crowley alone, supporting him through his private hell even when he didn’t understand, or deserve to bear witness to it.

He thought often about how Cas treated him, after everything, after Crowley, after learning what Dean did to Abbi.

Dean didn’t get it. He wasn’t sure he ever would. But it was the first time he actually wanted to find out. It was the first time he seriously wondered if Castiel really meant it when he said he wouldn’t go. It was the first time Dean wanted to… _try_.

He shook himself out of his thoughts as Cas stepped into the room. Dean had been busy cleaning dishes, refusing to let Sam do it.

They’d long since moved back into Sam’s house, but like hell Dean would let Sam do any of the chores on his birthday. If Sam was allowed to do anything, it was play with the other birthday girl. That was it. The only other thing he was allowed to do was drink and make merry with their friends.

“Would you like some help?” Cas asked, tossing his empty beer in the garbage. Dean glanced over at the counter, wondering why they’d bothered using actual dishes for the cake and ice-cream rather than the paper plates they’d used for the pizza.

He looked up at Cas, weighing if Cas really wanted to help or was just offering, and felt a smile tug at his lips.

“If you’ve got nothing better to do,” Dean replied. He motioned to the wet dishes currently drying and handed Cas a towel. “You dry and stack. I’ll keep washing.”

“Alright.”

Dean tried not to sneak glances at his friend as they worked, operating together in perfect sync and silence. As soon as Dean was done rinsing a dish, Cas would have just finished stacking and would take it with ease. They moved quietly, listening to the sounds of talking and laughing in the living room outside.

“You know,” Dean said after a particularly loud round of laughter, “you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to. They sound like they’re having a lot of fun out there.”

“I’d rather be out there with everyone,” Cas agreed, taking a dish and drying it. “But only if _everyone_ is there.”

He gave Dean a meaningful glance before he stacked the dish. Dean flushed red and handed him another.

They made it through another three dishes before Dean started again, “Find that perfect job yet?”

Cas hummed and smiled. “I was recently contacted by a community college. They need a literary teacher next semester. They said they’d give me a test run to see if I have the makings of a permanent teacher.”

“Is that what you’d like?” Dean asked, licking his lips. He imagined Cas standing in a classroom, surrounded by listening students. The image was definitely a pleasant one.

Cas smiled and nodded. “I think so. It would have it’s difficulties, but I think I’d enjoy teaching one of my favorite subjects.” He glanced at Dean before taking another dish. “And Sam mentioned you’re already back at work?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Can’t stand to be still. You know?”

“I can understand, yes,” Castiel smiled. “But I was wondering how you were doing. We haven’t discussed… well, anything. At least not anything important. Not since—“

“It’s fine,” Dean interrupted. “I’m… fine. I’m ready to leave it in the past, I think.”

He handed Cas another dish, just one more and then they could leave this conversation before it could begin.

Cas didn’t take it. Dean looked up to find Cas’s gaze fixed on his. His blue eyes were filled with concern. Dean wasn’t sure if he hated it or melted under it.

“What happened was very… stressful,” Cas said after a moment, wetting his lips. Dean tracked the movement with rapture. “But I care very deeply for you Dean. I’d hate it if you were suffering and didn’t tell anyone. I wanted to let you know that I’m here. As is Sam, and Bobby.”

Dean tore his gaze away and rewashed the dish. Clearly Cas didn’t care to dry anything just yet.

“I appreciate that,” he replied. “I do. But I’m not ready to talk about him, or Abbi, or anything to do with them. I just… want it gone.”

He caught Cas’s jaw flexing from the corner of his eye. “It won’t change what happened. We all want you to be happy, but I’m not sure bottling it up inside will ever make you feel better, or less, accept what happened for what it was.”

“What, that I was sexually assaulted?” Dean scoffed. When Cas flinched, Dean realized he’d been insensitive.

_Screw that_ , he thought. It wasn’t like it happened to Cas.

“Look,” Dean sighed, dropping the scrub brush, “I know what happened to me. I know what he… what _she_ , did to me. No one knows it better than me. But it’s one thing to know something and another to talk about it. You gotta’ understand that Cas. This isn’t… easy.”

He dared to look at Cas. His friend’s gaze was still, focused. It didn’t waver for a moment as Cas replied, “I do understand. But that doesn’t lessen us wanting to help you.”

Dean snorted and ran a wet hand through his hair.

“Then give me time, man,” he said. “I’m not ready right now.”

Cas nodded and extended his hand. “In that case,” he said, taking the finished dish from Dean’s hands, “we’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Dean watched him dry the dish and stack it on the finished pile, swallowing when Cas turned back to face him, far too close for comfort, but oddly, not nearly close enough.

“Is that alright?” Cas asked softly. Dean stared at him intently, searching.

He didn’t doubt for one moment that Cas didn’t mean every word he said. No matter what, no matter how long it took, Cas was promising to be ready. Sam and Bobby too.

Dean felt heat bloom in his chest and behind his eyes. He wondered if Cas would ever understand how much his words meant to him. How much his presence meant. His steadiness. His patience.

It only made Dean feel worse for denying him. Not just for holding back his memories, his fears, but also his affection. The love that he knew Cas desired, craved. It was the same thing Dean was desperate for.

But God help them if they were ever going to be ready for it.

Dean nodded curtly.

“Thank you,” he murmured, heart beating faster when Cas nodded and smiled.

“You’re always welcome,” Cas replied.

He moved to step past Dean, lead them both back to the living room, but Dean reached out and touched his arm, stopping him in place.

Blue eyes snapped up to his. Dean swallowed.

“Am I?” He asked, hoping Cas understood the meaning behind it.

The corners of Cas’s lips twitched, his eyes narrowing in brief confusion. But then, his eyes widened and his face broke into a warm smile. His hand reached up and cupped Dean’s face.

“You are _always_ welcome, Dean,” Castiel promised. Heat flooded Dean’s cheeks as he ducked his head, leaning forward until his face was against Cas’s shoulder.

“I’d… like that,” Dean muttered after a moment.

He felt chapped lips press against his temple, making him shudder. There was nothing he wanted more than to wrap himself up in Cas, disappear for a thousand years and never come back out. But this… this was nice.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Cas whispered. “I’ll be there too.”

Dean pressed a soft kiss to Cas’s shoulder. He wondered what this meant. This promise. He wanted to believe it was true. He wanted to trust it’d always be there, no matter how long it took. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he lost this too.

“Thank you Cas.”

The lips on his temple retreated. Dean mourned the loss, but appreciated the tight hug that followed.

“Let’s go finish your brother and daughter’s birthday party.”

Dean nodded. Cas led them back to the living room, holding his hand all the way until they entered the room. Even when their hands fell away, Dean still felt the warmth left behind. He felt it as he cheered his brother once more, when he kissed his daughter and bounced her on his knee. He felt it when Cas sat close, their bodies touching from legs to shoulders, once again not mentioning it once.

But the energy felt different this time. It was peaceful, at rest.

Dean wanted it to last forever. It was the first time he realized that he could have his old life back after all. It was also when he realized it could be even better than before.

As soon as he was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH. HAVE SOME OFFICIAL DESTIEL CONTACT. *THROWS CONFETTI AT YOU* I HOPE YOU LIKED IT, THERE SHOULD BE A USUAL UPDATE AGAIN NEXT TUESDAY.
> 
> I HOPE YOU LIKED IT, PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK~!


	21. Castle - Halsey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! again, sorry for the two week updates that have been going on... things have been stressful with school and life, and i was really struggling with how to proceed for these next few chapters. thanks to the lovely support and kindness of some friends, i was able to figure out how to move forward and give you guys the best that i can :)
> 
> updates should return to normal now, but if i miss an update next tuesday, don't worry. i'll definitely get it the following week. (this shouldn't happen--unless unforeseen life events pop up that i wasn't prepared for.)
> 
> usual warnings for this chapter, however: specific warnings for early stages of anxiety/panic attacks, usual self-hate from dean, and lots of discussion about dean's past abuse, however details are kept minimal.
> 
> thank you! apologies for any mistakes, i'll come back to edit later. now please enjoy the next chapter!

Castle - Halsey

_Oh, all of these minutes passing, sick of feeling used_

_If you wanna break these walls down, you're gonna get bruised_

 

It was a Sunday. The air was warm for early spring, sky sunny and blue. Dean didn’t find any trouble going out that morning with Emma, sitting her on his lap as they enjoyed the fresh air.

It’d been only a few weeks since he talked to Cas. He could still feel the kiss against his temple, tingling whenever Dean thought about it. He touched the spot sometimes, still wondering what it meant, or what it meant to Cas.

The thought was oddly… thrilling. He was excited about the implications of it. He wanted a change, badly. He wanted to move on. He wanted to just get _better_ already. He was tired of being tired. He didn’t want to feel alone anymore.

He’d brought up that much to Tessa. She had smiled softly through it all, nodding and circling her pen over her notes casually as she listened.

“Do you feel you’re ready for a relationship, Dean?” She’d asked, all gentleness and sincerity.

But Dean hadn’t been able to answer. He’d looked away and changed the subject.

The answer was confusing. He didn’t know. He knew what he wanted. But he wasn’t sure it was something he could even handle. Not after Abbi, and certainly not after Crowley.

“I’d like to talk about that next time we meet, if that’s alright,” Tessa had continued, sensing his fears. “I know you’re hesitant to talk about the details, but it’s important to begin the healing process. I’d like you to think about it.”

He’d been thinking about it. He’d considered it for two weeks, and he had his next appointment the following afternoon.

Dean stared down at his daughter, watching her tug at the toys in his hands and chew on them, teething hard at work.

He wondered what she’d be like when she was older. She was already one year old now, just as beautiful as the first day he saw her and held her in his arms. Her hair was growing thicker every day, mounds of blonde curls decorating her head like a golden crown. It curled around her ears, down her neck. Her freckles were coming back full swing with the returning sun and warmth. She looked like a little angel, and Dean was convinced she’d grow up to be one too.

“Will you even like me?” Dean asked softly, smiling weakly when she tugged on his thumb and bit on it, gummy with lots of smiles. “What will I tell you? Someday you’re going to ask about your mommy, Emma. And I won’t know what to say. Will you still like me then?”

Emma gurgled and drooled on his hand. Dean let her continue for another few moments before he pulled away and picked up another toy for her to use. He bounced her on his leg as he thought it over.

He needed to practice. He needed to learn how to… talk. Tessa and Cas were right. He couldn’t keep everything locked inside forever. It was going to kill him someday. It would probably, most likely, end up hurting Emma too.

It was only a matter of time before she learned how to really talk, how to ask questions. Really, how long would it be before she was becoming a teenager and angry that he’d never told her about her real mom?

Dean didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want Emma to hate him for the things he’d done. He didn’t want her to hate him for not telling either. But worst of all, he just didn’t want her to blame him. He wasn’t sure he could handle that. Not now, and certainly not later. He felt guilty enough as it was.

He sighed and kissed the top of his daughter’s head, listening to her chirp happily.

He needed to talk to Tessa.

Dean picked up Emma and brought her back inside, setting her inside her baby bouncer so he could go and find some paper and pen. He only had a few minutes until Sam was up and wandering around. He intended to make those minutes count.

“Be good,” he ordered Riot as he sat down on the living room sofa and got to work.

If he was going to do this, he was going to have to start at the basics. Getting it out, one way or another.

…

Dean was eerily aware of the weight of the pages in his hands. It was more than he thought he’d write. It was almost everything in it’s entirety, leaving out the hardest and worst parts for his own sanity, the things even he couldn’t bring himself to face. At least not yet.

He couldn’t imagine Sam or Bobby reading it, finding it. If they did, Dean would be grateful the worst of it was left alone. That, Dean needed to sort out for himself first.

The first few pages were in short hand. It was the obvious part, his immediate feelings and reactions based off of what happened month by month. It was also the one thing that was currently making him sweat the most as he stared at the paper and ink.

It was easily readable. He’d written it in under the span of an hour, desperate to at least get out his feelings and memories out of his system, at least for a little while. In the end, he had two and a half pages of bullet points and side notes, then another three pages of specific events he couldn’t get out of his head.

The first few pages were the first few months. In the beginning, he had nothing but good things to say. Abbi had been beautiful, they’d been happy, had awesome sex, and Dean had never wanted to leave. The second month had been just as good, even better when it came to sharing the sheets, but it was also the month of their first fights.

It was in the third to fifth months that things quickly went downhill. Anger, fights, injuries Dean tried too hard to explain away and awful sex that only ever left him aching and frustrated. But worse, he always felt like it was his fault in the end.

If he’d just let her have what she wanted. If he hadn’t been so stubborn. If he hadn’t done this… that… just let her….

It only got worse. The sixth month was the worst. Dean kept that part vague. But it was also the month Abbi got pregnant. It was the moment he realized he really couldn’t leave. There was no way he’d leave his child alone with Abbi, but he didn’t dare admit to himself that it was because of the danger.

A page and a half later, the tune changed after Emma was born. The month Dean ran away and was dragged back by Crowley. He’d thought he was going to die.

Everything after that was repetitive. Half a page rephrased a thousand times, “I wanted to leave. I should have left. Why didn’t I leave sooner?”

Dean stared at the scribbles, the many lines detailing some of the highlights of each month he’d been with Abbi. Some of them were far more vague than others, and rightfully so. There were a few hole punctures were the pen had gone right through the page in his frustration. Dean tried not to look at them as his eyes drifted to the last page.

“Final Month - Killed Abbi, saved Emma. I want her to be free like I never was.”

He folded the pages in half and shoved them under his mattress. He thought of his brother downstairs, now playing with Emma since he woke up. Dean had to relocate soon after with a half hearted excuse that he knew Sam didn’t buy.

But Sam had left him alone, and that was all that mattered.

Dean stood and made his way downstairs, eyes immediately latching to the spot where Sam sat on the floor, rubbing Riot’s belly and listening to Emma chirp and babble.

“Hey,” Sam called when he spotted him, smile sliding easily into place. Dean didn’t miss the look in his brother’s eyes. He saw the crinkle between his eyebrows, the slant in his face. He was worried. It’d been over a month, after all. Dean hadn’t talked about what happened, and now he was being secretive and disappearing. It was understandable for Sam to be concerned.

It didn’t stop Dean from wishing he wasn’t.

“You alright?” Sam asked, tossing Riot’s ball. Dean passed by the trotting dog and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine,” Dean replied. “Just needed some alone time.”

Sam nodded slowly, eyes trained on his shoes. “I… You don’t have to tell me, but have you talked to Tessa yet? Or, I mean, anyone? About what happened?”

Dean stiffened and glanced at Emma, grateful for the second time that day that she was still too young to understand or remember anything.

“No,” Dean grunted. “Not really. Was thinking about it, though.”

This seemed to catch Sam off guard. His hazel eyes snapped back up to Dean’s, a slow ‘o’ forming across his lips. “Really?”

Dean hummed and nodded his head. “A little. It’s not a big deal, Sam.”

Sam’s face contorted. He looked ready to argue, but seemed to change his mind as his shoulders hunched and he nodded.

“Just… remember that I’m here, okay? If you ever need to… vent. Or whatever.”

“Sam? No offense, but I kind of just want space right now,” Dean sighed.

Sam nodded and offered a weak smile. Dean’s chest hurt.

“I get it,” he replied. “You ready for your appointment tomorrow?”

Dean nodded curtly. “As I’ll ever be.”

…

Tessa’s eyes were warm when Dean sat down across from her, papers warm in his hands as his fists tightened on the corners.

“How are you, Dean?” She asked kindly. Dean could tell she was hoping for a positive answer from him, something to suggest he was ready to start opening up. Her eyes darted between him and the papers, features curious but schooled to be calm and patient.

Dean swallowed and glanced at the windows. The sun was streaming through, warming the room in a way that felt soft and safe. Yet it didn’t make Dean feel any more comfortable as he licked his lips and handed over the pages.

“I want to try,” he started, voice choking as Tessa took the gift and placed it in her lap. “I… I want to try this. Face it. I want to be able to actually talk about this, someday. If Emma ever…”

Tessa waited, ever patient. Dean looked away and tightened his hands on his lap.

“I’m worried about Emma asking questions someday,” Dean finished quietly, keeping his eyes down.

Tessa nodded and looked at the papers in her hands. “Is this what you had in mind to tell her? Someday?”

Dean shook his head hard. “No,” he stated, “I just want to get used to it. Talking. Sharing. About… you know, _it_.”

“Would you like to walk me through what you wrote?” Tessa asked. Dean hated the softness in her eyes. He hated how kind she was being, how patient. He wished someone would just snap at him already, make him choose one option or the other. Share or keep his mouth shut. Explain himself or leave. He was tired of being given time that he didn’t know what to do with.

He swallowed and stared at the white pages, refusing to make eye contact with the woman before him.

“No,” he replied finally.

“Would you like me to take a moment to read through this? Then ask you about it?”

“Sure.”

He spent the following minutes staring at his fingernails, picking at the edges and shuffling his feet, only stopping whenever Tessa asked a short question about a vague detail to be elaborated. It wasn’t until ten minutes later that Tessa folded the papers in her lap once more and leaned back, picking up her pen and notes to get back into their session.

“Was there anything you left out?” She asked. Her tone wasn’t unkind, but he flinched regardless.

Dean nodded curtly in response. She nodded and twirled her pen between her fingers. “Can you tell me about it?”

Dean shook his head. “Sam probably told you about what happened at the warehouse.”

“He only gave me suggestions on things I might ask you about.”

“Yeah?” Dean snapped, unable to stop the bitterness that rose up in him. “What’d he say? That I’m screwed in the head? That I’m a liar? Cause that much is already obvious, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Tessa’s body stilled. Her fingers stopped working around her pen, and Dean swore he could see her breathing slow as she lowered her hands back to the armrests of her seat.

“Whatever your brother said to me was said in love and concern, Dean,” she replied calmly, voice even and measured. “Do you feel like those things are true?”

Dean’s jaw tightened. He picked at the hem of his jeans as he grumbled, “Of course they are.” His gaze snapped back up to hers, locking gazes as a worry occurred to him. “What… did he say?”

Silence filled the air for a moment, Tessa beginning to play with her pen again when she finally replied, “Sam told me it was alright to share this with you. But he was concerned about possible sexual abuse.”

Dean stared at her for a long time. She didn’t try to speak again, or break the silence. She waited patiently as Dean processed it, tried to figure out if it was her words or something Sam had truly been concerned about.

He remembered what Sam said, that night at the warehouse. He’d said he knew. Whether it was about what Crowley tried to do to him that evening, or about the insinuations he’d made to when Dean lived with Abbi, Dean wasn’t sure. Regardless, it was crippling, and it made him sick just thinking about.

The very idea that _Sam_ knew anything remotely _close_ like that having happened to him… Dean swallowed hard and clenched his fists tightly, ignoring the prick of pain from his nails digging into his palms.

“Did… did Sam tell you about what Crowley did?” Dean asked, fighting back nausea at the mere thought of it.

Tessa had the decency to raise her eyebrows. “What did he do?”

Dean bit his tongue and folded his hands in his lap, the only way to stop himself from tearing into his jeans or the armrests. Or himself.

“He… came on to me.”

“As in…?”

“Kissed me,” Dean choked, swallowed. “Uh… touched me.”

“So he assaulted you,” Tessa summarized. Dean flushed and nodded.

The room felt too warm. He took a ragged breath and stared at the floor, counting the threads in the rug to distract himself.

“Was that the first time it had ever happened?”

“W-What?” Dean stammered. He’d probably given himself whiplash at this point, but he didn’t care. His heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, hammering in his chest like a train on railroad tracks. Every sense in his body told him to leave, to _run_ , to get away from this conversation and any like it.

But his legs felt cemented to the floor, the couch sucking in his body like a magnet that refused to let go. Dean’s skin felt hot and clammy as Tessa watched him expectantly.

“Y-You… He… No.” Dean scratched at his leg uncomfortably, eyes darting toward the door and the window. The sun was still shining brightly. Fake and cheery. The room’s soft glow now felt heavy and suffocating.

“Dean… I need you to take deep breaths for me, alright?” Her voice sounded farther away than it should have been. Dean’s head turned towards her. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead. He wanted to go. He wanted to go _now_.

“Breathe with me,” Tessa said, beginning to count off. It was a rhythm they’d discussed as soon as Dean came back to sessions. Dean knew it like the back of his hand now, after practicing it for a month. But his nerves felt like they’d been sat on the edge of a knife. He forced himself to focus on her voice, count down in his head until his breathing steadily began to match it.

“That’s excellent, Dean,” she sounded proud. “You’re doing great. One more time.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her, but did as he was told. His body still felt too warm. The room didn’t look nice anymore, but the air didn’t feel as thick as it had before. He coughed and ran a shaking hand through his hair, shame flooding his body.

“It’s alright,” Tessa reassured. “It’s okay. You’re safe here Dean, remember. This is a safe place.”

Safe, Dean wanted to scoff. Crowley once broke into the clinic and tried to violently kidnap him. Safety was never something he felt naturally. Ever.

A flash of blue eyes filled his thoughts and Dean shivered. Well, maybe never was a strong word.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing Tessa was still watching him carefully. She’d asked him a question. Dean couldn’t remember what it was.

All he could remember was a question about Crowley, and then…

He shivered and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes,” he muttered, finally. He stared at the papers in Tessa’s lap. He didn’t dare look up. Not now. He couldn’t bear it.

“What happened?” She asked softly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But please remember, it’s okay. You can take all the time you need.”

Dean nodded, movements stiff and jerky.

“Abbi happened,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: next chapter will take an official, in depth look at the dynamics of dean and abbi's relationship, as well as the things that happened to dean during their time together. please be aware, the next chapter *will* highlight what happened between dean and crowley, and how abbi played a significant part in dean's trauma (especially in this area.) 
> 
> overall, this means there will be extremely dubious consent issues in the next chapter and explicitly spoken non-con, although i will not be writing the actual act taking place. however, it will not be a pleasant chapter. i'll work to make it easy to read if this bothers you, squicks you, or triggers you. i'm looking to make this fic as enjoyable as possible for all readers.
> 
> again, the next chapter should come next tuesday! if not, it means life happened and i was unable to get my writing done. no matter what, an update will come either next tuesday or the tuesday following. (sam's worst nightmare, so many tuesdays.)
> 
> thank you for reading!!


	22. Gasoline - Halsey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the archive warnings have changed from just 'Graphic Depictions of Violence' to 'Rape/Non-Con.' 
> 
> This chapter is a flashback scene to a time when Abbi severely scarred Dean mentally and physically. There is enormous dubious consent issues in this fic, as well as an explicit non-con moment between Dean and another male. Please read at your own discretion.
> 
> If this is a trigger for you and you don't want to read the specific violence and rape, please watch for the '+...+' page break. After that, the rest of the fic will include dub-con, mental manipulation, and non-con. Again, please read cautiously if this is not for you. An explanation of what happened will be shared in the notes below.
> 
> Also, I have created a Spotify playlist for this fic. You can find the link here: https://play.spotify.com/user/1227622154/playlist/0NzGryqwtu8bNkrTZZW3gY
> 
> I hope you enjoy the music :) Thank you, and again, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. YOU HAVE BEEN ADVISED.

Gasoline - Halsey

_Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me? Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?_

_Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me?_

_And all the people say, "You can't wake up, this is not a dream."_

_..._

 

_**One Year Previously** _

_**Late May** _

 

“Please stop crying,” Dean was whispering, repeating like a mantra. “Please, please just stop.”

Emma hadn’t stopped wailing since they’d arrived at the motel, glowing crimson letters of the sign outside lighting the parking lot so Dean could see anyone coming ahead of time. He needed the vantage point. He needed to know they were safe.

But Emma wouldn’t stop crying, and he couldn’t keep his eyes on two places at once. He hushed her again, hating himself that he couldn’t ease her frustration. Her face was bright red, cries shrill and piercing.

Why wouldn’t she stop? They were safe now. They were finally safe. Dean had driven for hours, careful to make sure they weren’t followed. He’d made it so far, they were finally free, and even now there was no rest. There was no peace.

He was too tired. He just wanted to sleep for once and feel like he didn’t have to fear what Abbi would do to him in the morning. He didn’t want to think about screaming anger and thrown pots and pans and scissors. He didn’t want to think about nails tearing his skin, fingers tugging his hair back, crimson lips spilling poison into his mouth and reminding him that there really was no such thing as escape.

Well, he wanted to believe she was wrong. He needed to believe she was wrong. He didn’t just need it for him. He needed it for Emma.

Above all, Emma had to be safe.

He bit his lip and continued to rock Emma in his arms, hushing her as he tried to figure out what the next step was.

He couldn’t believe he’d gotten this far. Maybe he could go back to California? Find Sam? Hope he would forgive him for disappearing, not resent him for never calling.

Dean didn’t hold much hope for anything anymore. But he was desperate now, maybe even desperate enough to start believing in flimsy things like hope.

“Shh,” he whispered, raising her up in his arms so her small head rested on his shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here, we’re okay.”

Her wails softened, but the crying didn’t stop. That was okay. It was a start.

Dean rocked her for several more minutes, trying not to wince at the continuing shill crying from his daughter directly by his ear. But it was for that reason he didn’t hear the sound of car doors slamming outside, or the voices drawing closer to the door.

The sharp bang of the door caught his attention though, and with it, his blood ran ice cold.

Emma’s wails rang out once more, full force at the sudden sound, and Dean lunged back behind the second queen size bed. He whirled around in time to see the door shatter open and several men step inside. At the front of the pack was an all too familiar face.

Crowley.

Dean shivered and held Emma close, staring wide eyed at the intruders. He couldn’t escape like this. He was holding his infant daughter, only a month old. He could just break through the window and run for his life--no matter how unlikely his chances were of escape. The only place he could hide was the bathroom, but they would easily break that door down as they did the first.

He cursed himself. He should’ve been listening. He shouldn’t have let himself think they were safe, far away from danger.

He just didn’t think Abbi would have sent _Crowley_. Why him? Why the one person Dean actually knew about?

Abbi had men and women passing through her doors day after day. All of their faces meshed together into one, but Crowley was the only one who stood out. He was the only one to test Abbi’s patience by staring at him, licking his lips, dropping comments. He was the only one who asked to share, whatever the hell that meant.

Another shiver ran up his spine as Crowley stepped forward, devilish smile curling at his lips.

“Going somewhere, Dean?” The man drawled. Dean took another step back, shoulders pressing against the wall.

“I’m leaving,” Dean snarled. “I’m not going back.”

“I’m not so sure you have a choice in that,” Crowley replied. His smile didn’t waver as he walked around the bed, stepping close to Dean until he was backed into a corner. “Ms. Donovan’s instructions were very specific.”

Dean cradled Emma’s crying body closer to his chest, hating himself for his vulnerable state. He couldn’t protect her like this. He couldn’t just hold his child behind his back, like he did once upon a time with his little brother when they travelled across the country. He couldn’t just tell her to run as he fought his way through the men in suits. She was still too new, too fresh to the world. She couldn’t run, or talk, or heed directions.

He’d never felt so useless.

He swallowed, gritting his teeth as he replied, “You don’t have to. You don’t have to do everything she says. It’s not worth it.”

“I’m not sure you understand just how much I’m going to gain from this contract,” Crowley smiled, tilting his head like Dean was a specimen to be examined. “Also, I’ve never backed out of a contract.”

“There’s always a first for everything,” Dean tried. He needed this, just this once. He needed to believe he could escape, that freedom was possible. “I’ll do anything. Just let us go.”

Crowley licked his lips, eyes lighting. Dean hated it.

“You have no idea how tempting your offer is,” Crowley replied, soft. “Unfortunately, like I said, never backed out of a contract. I’m not breaking that streak now. Reputations to upkeep, and all.”

“No.” Dean’s eyes widened in horror as Crowley stepped back and waved a hand for the men to step forward. “Please, you can’t take me back. She’ll kill me.”

“Sadly, not my priority,” Crowley replied. “Take the child, then him,” he ordered. The men nodded and rushed forward.

Shit. Dean leaned back and kicked at the first person who jumped at him, proud when he heard ribs snapping under the weight of his boot. But he couldn’t fight three at once with a baby in his arms.

He managed to get another kick at the second grunt, but not before the third had their hands around Emma’s small body, ripping her from Dean’s arms. He screamed, lunging forward to punch the man in the eye, but the second man was back to his feet and punched Dean hard across the face. He felt blood splatter down his face from his nose just before the man slammed Dean’s body into the bed. His jaw snapped shut, teeth grazing his tongue as the man sat on his back, holding him down as he pulled Dean’s arms behind him.

“Don’t hurt her!” He screamed, tasting blood on his teeth as the man holding his daughter walked toward Crowley, handing over the screaming child. “Hurt her or I swear to God--!”

“You’ll do what?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow as Dean was dragged off the bed. “You’re in no position to negotiate. Now, if you’re good, we’ll have a nice drive home. Understand?”

Dean cursed and kicked the foot of the man holding him, strictly on principle. The man swore and reached around, slamming his fist in Dean’s gut. His breath rushed out of his lungs in a fell swoop. The taste of copper sharpened on his tongue.

He gasped as the man and another dragged him out of the room, his feet struggling to keep him upright the entire way.

Outside, the air was cold and biting. The lights of the Red Sparrow glowed in the darkness. Dean could see the light of the lobby glowing just beneath it. A still body lay on the floor in the center of the room inside.

Dean’s heart hammered in his chest when he caught sight of red pooling on the floor.

Dear God. He was going to die. He was actually going to die, _he was going to die_ , _Emma_ \--

His thoughts were violently interrupted by a hit to the head, sending his body limp as the trunk of a black vehicle was opened.

“Hope you aren’t claustrophobic,” one of the grunt’s muttered. It was the last thing Dean heard before he was shoved inside. All he saw was darkness after that.

…

His limbs were sore and stiff when the trunk finally opened again. He didn’t have a moment to cope with the sudden light of the porch lamp of Abbi’s home. Instead two pairs of hands reached in and took hold of his arms and legs, dragging him out and letting his body hit the asphalt with a thud.

He groaned and tried to crawl away, but the hands were on him in another instant, throwing him back to his feet and leading him up the steps to the front doors.

He couldn’t hear Emma’s crying. He had a horrifying moment of terror--wondering if they’d harmed her, or worse--but he couldn’t let himself think it. He sucked in a painful breath as the doors opened. He didn’t have time to worry anymore. He was probably going to be dead soon anyway.

All he could hope was that Emma would somehow be rescued from this hell he’d been trapped in. He couldn’t bear the thought of Emma being stuck with Abbi, forever, without anyone to protect her from the woman’s wrath.

But maybe, maybe Abbi would be kind to Emma, unlike him. Maybe Abbi would actually kiss her at night, tell her she was beautiful. Maybe the fault had always been with Dean, not their daughter.

Everything was his fault, after all.

The warmth of the house flooded his senses as they stepped inside. Abbi’s red hair immediately caught his vision.

His girlfriend sat perfectly in the living room, legs crossed with a book perched at the edge of her knee. Her eyes drifted to the guests at her door, gaze immediately latching onto Dean’s.

For a moment, Dean expected fury. He expected blind rage. He expected her to march through the living room, walk right up to him and latch her fingers around his throat and draw blood from his skin. It was no less than he deserved for running away, but it would also be merciful compared to what she’d already done to him.

He watched with sinking horror as she slowly stood, expression blank as her soft footsteps padded across the floor to reach them. He was afraid. He was _terrified_. Abbi had always been unpredictable. But most days, Dean could always guess what she was thinking. He knew when she was angry. He knew when he’d crossed a line and made things worse. He knew when she lusted and when she needed submission from him, or anybody, for the night.

But no expression… he was properly, completely, terrified.

“Oh,” she sighed, stepping up in front of him. Her hand reached up and cupped his cheek. He flinched backward, violently, only held in place by the men behind him. “Dean. Thank God you’re alright.”

He wanted to scoff, but instead an anxious rattle of laughter bubbled out of his lips. He trembled as Abbi touched him again, gently pulling his face forward so she could press her lips against his. He winced but didn’t pull back again. Her kiss was… soft. He could recall kisses like this before, from old lovers, even from Abbi. She’d always kiss him like this before the fights. Now she only kissed him this gently when she was apologizing, or making a point.

The thought made him shake as she pulled back, running her fingers gently over his face and through his hair.

“Crowley!” She called, eyes leaving his face but her fingers remaining. “Come here.”

Right on demand, Crowley stepped forward with his head bowed. “Apologies. He made it very clear he didn’t want to return.”

“Thank you for not listening,” Abbi muttered. Her gaze snapped back to Dean’s, her fingers tightening across his face. Dean flinched but remained still. He knew better than to pull away. “Now,” she whispered, drawing close enough for her breath to ghost over his face. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

Dean closed his eyes, fighting the tremors in his body. He replied weakly, “Where’s Emma?”

Abbi chuckled. It should have sounded soft and sweet. To Dean’s ears, it sounded anything but.

“You think you can have Emma? Now? You tried to take her away from me Dean. You tried to take away my child. I could throw you in prison for attempted kidnapping.”

Dean’s eyes flew open in horror. He hadn’t even considered--he’d just needed to escape. Disappear, like John used to do with his family in Dean’s childhood. He was all too familiar with getting away, hiding from the law. But he’d been caught. He could lose Emma forever.

But… maybe prison would be better than living with Abbi. If she let him live, anyway.

That still left Emma, alone with Abbi.

“Oh Dean,” she murmured once more. She pet his face before pulling back, giving him a once over. “How am I supposed to trust you now? What am I supposed to do? I need to do something, don’t I?” Her gaze narrowed, and Dean felt all eyes in the room turn to him. She’d asked him a question. By the look on her face, she expected an answer.

Dean suddenly realized she was giving him a way out. He didn’t have to die, or go to prison. She wanted him to be loyal, to come back and be good. That’s all she wanted.

He swallowed hard, fear taking root. He needed Emma. At the end of the day, no matter what Abbi did, he just wanted to make sure Emma was safe. He wanted his daughter, happy and unharmed. He wanted his little girl to grow up to be the beautiful angel he knew she was.

Dean tried to tell himself it was all for Emma. He wanted to believe it, even needed to. But he couldn’t help but hate himself too. Because being in Abbi’s good graces? There was nothing else like that. No matter what she was capable of.

He bit back the thought, refused to dwell on it as he whispered, “Yes, I’m sorry.” He kept his eyes lowered, willing, obedient, just the way he knew she loved. “I messed up. I really messed up Abbi. I’m really sorry.”

She sighed, heavily. “I know that, Dean. But it doesn’t change the fact you broke my trust. I need to punish you Dean. You need to prove you’re sorry.”

“Anything,” he replied, bowing his head further.

He felt her fingers touch his face again, raising his chin so he could look her in the eye.

“Good.” Her lips curled into a thin smile. It sent fear raising down his spine, but also need. He needed this, her approval, her forgiveness. He needed to win her love, not just for his own sanity, but for Emma too.

If she didn’t let him have this, she didn’t even have to kill him. He’d die by himself.

“Take him upstairs, to our special room,” Abbi ordered. Unlike Crowley, she didn’t need to gesture. A moment later Dean was being taken up the stairs, Abbi’s voice ringing behind them, “Make him _comfortable_. We’ll be there for a while.”

Dean swallowed hard but didn’t fight. There was no use fighting anymore. He was never going to escape anyway. He knew that now. The best he could do was hold on and hope he could make it through the process. No matter what she did to him.

Although, he would realize later, he would have rather been shot first.

+…+

He had no concept of time. There was no clock in the room, only a bed and a large oakwood dresser filled with things Dean didn’t even want to think about.

He spent all of his time chained to the bed. His wrists were sore, red, bleeding from being chafed too consistently.

His body was constantly sore and stiff. Red welts covered his skin from where Abbi had scratched at his skin, hit him with her ‘toys’ to make him understand the ‘emotional pain’ he put her through.

There wasn’t a piece of him that hadn’t been hit, bitten, scratched. He’d probably been there for weeks now, but he knew at some point halfway through he’d been unable to keep silent anymore, screaming and begging and pleading for her to stop, to understand he was sorry, that he’d never leave her again.

But Abbi would only nod, kiss him, then explain gently, “Words are meaningless. Make me believe it.”

Making her believe it seemed to include him bearing all of her assaults on his body.

She’d had sex with him lots of times during their ‘sessions.’ But it was never satisfying for him. She would work herself over his body, never letting him free from the chains that held his wrists to the headboard. As soon as she rocked herself to completion, she would immediately pull away and leave him aching and frustrated.

“Please,” he’d whimpered after the fifth time, unable to bear the strain. Abbi simply raised an eyebrow.

“Would you prefer I caged you?” She asked.

Dean shut up quickly after that. But she got him one anyway.

It had to have been weeks. He was sure of it. He never got to see Emma, not even once. He was never let out of the bed for any reason other than to use the restroom with Abbi’s strict supervision, making him feel raw and exposed.

If he ever asked about Emma, she would grab his hair and yank him back, snarling, “You get Emma when you’re good. If you’re good, you don’t ask questions.”

He couldn’t prove it, but he’d lost hair over the course of several days, just from her constant pulling and mood swings.

One day, she was peaceful and gentle and forgiving. “You’re almost there, sweetie,” she’d whisper, kissing him everywhere with every strike of her belt against his back. “You’re so good for me. So beautiful.”

Then the next day, she would be full of rage, unmerciful as she slapped him and rode him, never letting him catch a single breath until she left him used and broken, not to come back for another day and a half with more gentle kisses and reminders of what he was working for.

For Emma. For forgiveness. For mercy.

“You should be grateful,” Abbi whispered one night, curled against his side as she played with his chest, dancing her nails over his sensitive nubs and tweaked them. “My predecessor would not be nearly as kind.”

Dean had no idea what that meant. But it worked. Somehow throughout the time he was trapped in that room, he was grateful. She hadn’t killed him after all. She was giving him another chance at redemption, to be good, to have her protection and love on him again. He just had to be good. That seemed to be all she ever wanted, even from the beginning. He’d just never understood before.

Why couldn’t he be good?

He could tell when the time was coming to a close. She was growing convinced. The rage spells were few and far in between now. Every time he saw her she kissed him more, touching him gently. She unlocked the cage on him and rubbed lotion across his entire body, kissing each mark and scar as she went.

She whispered apologies, praises, reminding him of how good he’d been. He hated himself for flushing under the praise, preening like a damn peacock. But she looked so happy, so pleased. He couldn’t help but bask under the love he’d been denied for so long.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling so good.

Of course he should have realized it meant she was leading up to a grand finale.

It was late at night when she came in once more. The chains still had yet to be unlocked, but he dared to hope it was finally time.

Abbi sat on the edge of the bed, fingers coming up to play in his hair. She kissed him softly and smiled. “Are you ready to be forgiven, Dean?”

He nodded so hard he almost sobbed. He didn’t dare speak without permission. He knew better now. She smiled, pleased, as she cupped his face and kissed him again.

“That’s good,” she whispered. “I have one last test for you, love. Just one and all will be forgiven. You can even see Emma. You never have to be parted from her again.”

His eyes sparked, longing thrumming through his body as he leaned forward unconsciously, daring to believe he could actually hold his daughter again.

“Speak, love.”

“Please,” he immediately gasped, tugging at his chains. “Please, I’m ready.”

She smiled and kissed his forehead. “I knew you would be.” She sat up straight and called out, “Come in. He’s ready.”

Dean frowned, uncertainty clouding his mind as the door to their room opened. This was the first time someone else had entered this room while he was kept. His eyes widened in horror when he saw Crowley.

He immediately drew up his legs, blocking his nakedness, but Abbi slapped his thigh, forcing his legs back down.

“I’m going to share you tonight, Dean,” she whispered, lips curling in pleasure. “You took my child, our child. Now Crowley is going to take something from you. But don’t worry,” she kissed his trembling lips, smiling as she brushed a thumb across them. “I’ll be right here the entire time. You don’t have to be alone, sweetheart.”

Crowley stepped closer, eyeing Abbi carefully as he drew near the bed.

Dean couldn’t stop the shivers that took over his body, making him vibrate against the mattress with fear. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want anything to do with Crowley--especially not like that.

Abbi clutched his hand in the chains, nodding as Crowley began to partially disrobe. The other man wasn’t naked, and seemed to be careful not to be. Probably instructions from Abbi beforehand.

The thought that Abbi had planned this out, chose to give away Dean like this, struck powerfully inside him. He whined, pulling away as Crowley climbed onto the bed.

“A-Abbi, please don’t--”

She slapped him, grabbing hold of his face so it was focused only on her, not on the hands that were beginning to touch his body.

“Remember why you’re here Dean,” she hissed. “If you want my forgiveness, prove it. Prove that you will do anything for me. Prove that you love me.”

Dean felt tears prick his eyes as hands moved beneath his hips, lifting him so he was against Crowley’s lap.

“Be good, Dean.”

He shut his eyes.

Crowley was a careful worker, Dean learned. He took careful time prepping him, easing him into it. Dean hated him for it.

He’d rather prefer the pain, the blood, the cuts the bruises. He wanted it over. But the man’s patience was Dean’s undoing. He took extra care in everything he did. He took time with every finger that stretched him, making sure every bit was just enough.

When Crowley finally pushed inside, Dean cried.

Abbi’s hands never left his face, holding him still as Crowley had his turn. It was the worst feeling in the entire world. He hated every moment of it. He hated Crowley. He hated Abbi. He hated himself, especially.

It felt like hours. Horrible, awful, excruciating hours. But in the end, he knew it was nowhere nearly as long.

Crowley finished inside him, spent, sated. Dean didn’t get the dignity of going unfinished. Crowley’s hand wrapped around him and forced him to completion, making sure it had all been together.

He felt dirty. He felt sick. Tear stains covered his face as Crowley tucked himself back in and thanked Abbi for the privilege of sharing.

“Go. Don’t expect it to happen again,” Abbi promised. Crowley simply nodded and left, only casting one lingering glance before he closed the door.

Abbi unlocked the chains immediately, pulling them off Dean’s wrists carefully. She kissed the chafed skin and rained praise down all over his body.

“Now, was that so bad?” She smiled, kissing him gently.

Dean didn’t answer. He felt like something was stuck in his throat. Like something had curled up inside of him and died.

“You were so good Dean,” Abbi continued to praise, climbing off the bed to grab him some briefs from the dresser, finally letting him get dressed, if only partially. “I bet you’d like to have your reward now.”

Dean couldn’t bring himself to sit upright. She dressed him with kisses and smiles. She told him how much she loved him, how proud she was. That now he was forgiven, loved, adored. He could be free now to have everything Abbi could give him.

It was everything Dean wanted. But he still felt dead as she sat him upright.

“Bring her,” she called, and the door opened once more. This time, one of the grunts stepped in, carrying a screaming infant in his hands.

Dean’s eyes lit up at the sight of his daughter, fresh tears falling as Emma was finally placed back in his arms.

“There,” Abbi whispered, coming close and wrapping both of them in her arms. “Together. The way we all should be. Are you happy Dean?”

He knew he was supposed to answer. He stared at his daughter, finally softening her cries to small babbles, and felt a pained smile spread across his face.

“Yes,” he replied softly. “Thank you.”

It was the right answer. She led them back up to their room, patiently walking with him slowly as he struggled to remain upright. His body felt like jelly, weak and feeble, ready to collapse at any moment. His backside burned, his bones ached. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up again.

But he had Emma in his arms, and everything was worth it.

Abbi tucked him into their master bed, allowing him to hold Emma until he fell asleep. When he woke up, his daughter was in her crib beside the bed, easily in sight and reach. When Abbi rolled over in bed, whispering a soft, “Good morning, love,” Dean knew it for certain.

He was still unclean, dirty, used. He felt broken in every possible way. But seeing his daughter in front of him, and knowing how to please Abbi now, every single moment of it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long story short: Abbi made Dean 'earn' her trust again by suffering extreme punishment for a few weeks trapped in a bedroom. There was severe physical abuse, mental manipulation, and dub-con because Dean didn't want the pain but did want Abbi to be happy. However there was straight non-con when Abbi chose to 'share' him with Crowley to make him prove that he would do anything for Abbi. He voiced his objection, but was unable to consent or say no and was raped.
> 
> Personal note: Apologies for all the angst. I hated myself writing this, and I feel like a terrible human being. But this chapter has been a long time coming. I hope you all have been enjoying the story to this point and will continue to enjoy it. 
> 
> Next chapter next tuesday! Please let me know your thoughts. Thank you for reading!


	23. Closing Time - Semisonic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait guys! i feel like i'm a broken record with my excuses, but i i really have been busy. 
> 
> i've planned out the rest of the chapters ahead of this one, and i'm just going to say we're definitely coming into the close of this fic. how many chapters are left, i can't say yet, but just so you know... we are officially entering the ending stages.
> 
> coming up, dean needs to get some closure, settle himself about what he really wants, and hopefully grow closer to one particularly beautiful and loving man ;) *hint-hint nudge-nudge*
> 
> anyway, i hope you like the next chapter. usual warnings apply, most of this chapter is wrapping up what happened after the last chapter as well as what happened between that moment and when Sam found Dean in the hospital. 
> 
> We're coming full circle now! I hope you enjoy! Thank you!!

Closing Time - Semisonic

 

_Closing Time_

_Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end._

 

Everything after that day was more or less of a blur. Dean didn’t try to remember them, and he didn’t care. It was all the same anyway.

Pretending everything was fine was the easy part. The hardest part of moving on had been doing everything in his power not to think about what Abbi let Crowley do. Mercifully, Crowley seemed to disappear after that night. Dean still heard his name in conversations, knew that Abbi was still including him in deals and schemes they were running, but Dean didn’t have to see him. It was probably the only reason Dean didn’t lose his mind completely.

He still lost himself in other ways. After Emma was back in his arms, there were new rules in place. Dean didn’t try to fight any of them.

Before he ran away, he’d still been able to go and hang out with friends. Even if he’d only gotten out of the house once a week, he’d still had Jo and her friends from the precinct. He did recognize the irony of being friends with cops when he was living with a criminal--but it was never enough to make Dean speak about it.

But after he came back, Abbi didn’t let him leave the house ever. He didn’t call his friends, and if he _did_ leave the house, it wasn’t without clear planning and letting Abbi know all the details about it. Even though she said she never had anyone follow Dean when he left, he still caught sight of followers every now and again.

Jo, however, didn’t care about Abbi’s new ‘no friends’ policy. She tried to call him often in the first few weeks. Dean wasn’t sure he could answer even if he wanted too. Every time the phone rang his skin crawled and he felt like throwing up. He wasn’t sure if it was because of what he’d just gone through, the torture for days at the hands of Abbi, and Crowley--but talking to anyone even remotely _normal_ and _not like him_ made him nauseous and pained.

He ignored Jo, he ignored his friends, he did anything Abbi wanted. In the end, he reasoned, it had to be better than being punished.

Abbi still hurt him, sometimes. It had grown rare after he ran away. The days were longer and more peaceful for him, but when she did have her outbursts, they were wild, fiery, painful, but blessedly short. She always took care of him after now, setting him down on the couch or the bed to ‘make him feel good’ and remind him that she wasn’t all that bad. Right?

Dean ignored the ache that grew in his chest. Even when she was ‘rewarding’ him or ‘making him feel better,’ he couldn’t help but feel it was still out of his control. It still wasn’t doing anything for him. If she was making him feel better, it was always about her. It was about making him want to stay so she wouldn’t lose him. It was about pleasuring her rather than letting him take and enjoy.

But like everything else, he ignored it. He didn’t try to pay attention. It hurt too much, and again, anything was better than the possibility of Crowley coming back--even if Abbi did promise he wouldn’t.

It was only after one bad night with Abbi that Dean knew he actually needed to visit a hospital to treat his injuries. Abbi told him he was being ridiculous, selfish, not trusting her judgement. Dean didn’t trust her for anything anymore. But the weight of possible punishment was too bright in his mind. He tried to hold on and pretend nothing was wrong.

He got an infection from the cut she caused anyway. He visited the hospital-- _without Abbi_ \--and met Jo’s mother. It wasn’t for the first time, but it was the first time Dean actually listened to the woman rant at him for not going to the police already. It was the first time Dean actually started paying attention again.

Dean ended up returning to the hospital three more times before he let Ellen convince him to visit the police station on the way home. He wasn’t followed that day, mostly because Abbi schedule had been run ragged--the biggest reason for her outburst and Dean’s subsequent visit to the ER.

Maybe it was a blessing. Maybe it was God actually trying to save him for once. Dean wasn’t sure, but he took the chance. The weight of punishment was still bright in his mind’s eye, but now it was paired with the dream of not having to fear it any more.

His only priority was Emma. He needed to protect Emma. Even if the police couldn’t help him, they had to help his daughter.

The first time he went to the police, they laughed at him. Dean stared at them like they’d started smoking joints in front of him. When they realized he wasn’t joking, things had quickly turned dark. One of the officers even threatened to arrest him--since he was probably an abuser looking to get rid of his chick.

Dean couldn’t stop shaking the entire way home--whether it was from rage or fear, he had no idea. It was probably a mix of the two.

His last visit with Ellen, he told her what happened. She called the cops herself and faxed over his records from his hospital visits. The police listened to him then.

Their first thought was to just pull Dean and Emma out of the home immediately. They already had his records, and it was enough to get the ball rolling. But Dean wasn’t stupid. He knew what would happen the moment the evidence was presented before a jury. Abbi’s lawyers would run circles around all of them. They’d say Dean was faking the evidence, that he got in fights all the time and that his injuries were from brawls with drunken friends and enemies. They’d say that _Dean_ was the abuser, if they wanted to.

And in the end, either Dean would go to prison, Emma still in Abbi’s arms, or even worse, Abbi would take him home and he would never leave that cursed torture room again.

Both results left him with no future and Emma in the arms of a demon. Dean didn’t care about his own future. He needed Emma to have one.

He convinced the police to let him set up cameras to record physical evidence. Dean figured, if he could catch her actually hurting him, without him provoking her for any reason, he could actually have a chance of walking away with Emma in _his_ arms, not Abbi’s.

The cops hated his plan. They didn’t want him to be in any more danger than necessary, but it was a risk Dean had to take. He knew Abbi better than them. He knew without this, there was no way in hell they’d get away.

He couldn’t set up the cameras immediately. Abbi would find them in a heartbeat. But he managed to convince Abbi to put up some cameras _herself_.

There were days he was terrified she’d see right through his scheme. He’d taken enormous care not to be seen going to the police, but it was only a matter of time. The best he could do was try to make her paranoid. It made her more angry, quick to hit him and break him down. But she was effectively paranoid, and within a few weeks, there were cameras set up in all of the rooms in the house. All Dean had to do was rout the feed back to the cops so they could get a recording of everything.

Dean, even now, couldn’t be sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Abbi acted the way she did. But shortly after the cameras were in place, she blew up.

Dean couldn’t remember how the fight started. The cops knew, and so did the lawyers. But all Dean remembered was that he was sitting in the living room with Emma in his lap, feeding her--cause God knew Abbi never would--when Abbi came in and grabbed his neck, ripping him up from the sofa like he weighed nothing at all.

Emma cried at the sudden movement, but Dean’s eyes were trapped on Abbi’s. She said something, Dean had no idea what, but the next thing he knew Abbi had pulled Emma out of his arms and put her wailing body on the sofa. Barely a second later, her hands had latched into his hair and snapped his head back. His legs locked, almost toppling him as Abbi swore, “Emma is _mine_!”

He was never sure where Abbi got that sentence from, or why she had to say it. The cops reasoned she probably found out about Dean’s plan to leave her, to get Emma away from her. There were lots of reasonable options. All Dean cared about was Abbi’s nails digging into his skull as she pulled back her fist and slammed it into his face.

Everything after that was a blur. Fists flew, wounds were made. Dean didn’t know where Abbi got the knife. All he knew was that he got hit, and then he had his hand around hers, twisting the knife back, and plunging it into her body.

He saw her hit the floor, saw her red hair flow out against the carpet to match the pooling blood. He heard sirens coming up the driveway and Emma’s screaming before he fell into the blood unconscious.

The next time he woke, he was alone in a hospital and Emma was gone. The second time he woke, Sam was there, and Dean felt peace for the first time in two years.

So why did he still feel so cold?

…

**_Present Day_ **

Dean left the clinic and climbed into his car. He didn’t turn the ignition. His eyes were fixed ahead on the building he’d just left, mind still trapped on everything he’d just told Tessa.

He hadn’t meant to tell her everything. He just wanted to find a stepping stone, a way to slowly build up to it. Instead, everything happened exactly how he feared. That once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Dean felt his body trembling as he leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. God, he was tired. He was so tired of the never ending exhaustion, the never ending fear. He just wanted to be normal. Why did that have to be so hard?

He counted his breaths and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate.

If anything, Dean was grateful he’d spilled all of his guts to Tessa first. His family knew a lot, God knew Cas did too but he was family at this point so it hardly mattered. But Crowley? That week in that room? How he killed Abbi? Everything he did to try to get Emma out?

His head was spinning and his heart was pounding. Tessa took it well, even asked if he’d be comfortable taking medication to help with his anxiety. She didn’t use the word ‘depression’ but Dean got the point.

He needed help. Badly.

It just sucked ass that he had to wait six months to finally tell the truth about everything when he could have started getting better sooner.

Dean felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he sighed. He pulled out his phone and checked the message. A small smile tugged at his lips as he read.

_Cas: Just got out of my interview for the teaching position, have the afternoon free. Would you like to grab drinks?_

Dean bit his lip and stared at the reply key. His mind was still spinning, but his heart was finally beginning to calm. He thought of Cas standing outside of the school, blue eyes squinting in the sunlight as he made his way to the parking lot, waiting back on Dean’s reply.

Dean felt the smile before it appeared as he hit the reply button and typed.

_Dean: Love to._


	24. Could Have Been Me - The Struts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long break everybody! i've been sick the past few weeks and i have no idea when i'll get better, but i feel the writing bug kicking back so i was able to whip up this chapter for you guys :) if all goes well, you should definitely have your next update by next tuesday. thank you so much for your patience!!
> 
> another side note: we're in the final chapters of this fic. i expect no more than 5-7 chapters before things are wrapped up, since we're officially in the healing stretch for Dean's character.
> 
> thank you guys for being patient, again. it means the entire world :) i hope you like the update~!

Could Have Been Me - The Struts

_I wanna taste love and pain, wanna feel pride and shame_

_I don't wanna take my time, don't wanna waste one line_

_I wanna live better days_

 

“Da-Da!” Emma squealed, fists opening and closing as she smiled up at him. “O-Da-Da!”

Dean beamed down at her and took her tiny hands in his, helping her up to her feet. Ever since his daughter had officially started crawling, she’d taken off like a shot. It was barely a month later before she was testing her feet for the first time, hauling herself up by her little arms to stand up like a big girl. She couldn’t walk at all without a beam or chair to hold onto, or her daddy and uncle’s hands to clutch as she moved. But otherwise, she was fiercely determined, and Dean found himself with his little girl between his legs almost every day now, holding up her arms as she carefully stuck her feet forward one at a time.

Dean’s favorite part of his daughter growing up was her newfound ability for words. She could only say two words that he knew of for sure. She’d officially called him “Da-Da” a month ago now, just shortly after Dean finally spilled his guts to Tessa. It was probably a blessing, one bright and beautiful thing for Dean to focus on instead of the rest of his life.

But the rest of his life… was actually becoming normal, again. Crowley seemed to be long gone. Aside from the nightmares and therapist visits, Dean’s past was exactly that. The past.

Dean and Castiel had started seeing each other at least once a week, not even counting their exchanged texts and occasional phone calls throughout their workdays. Dean caught himself often checking his phone over an engine at the shop, phantom phone alerts making him check every fifteen minutes until Cas texted him back.

Sometimes, when Dean felt brave, he’d ask Cas to meet him for lunch. Cas had yet to say no.

Even with how often they were beginning to see each other, they still made time on the weekends. Most times they made play dates for their daughters, going to each other’s homes so Claire and Emma could play together. Other times, they dropped the girls off with Anna before heading off to a local sports game or restaurant.

They weren’t _dates_. At least, they never called it that. They were just… hanging out. That’s what Dean told himself. They couldn’t date because Dean wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t sure when he would, if he ever _could_. But he wanted to be ready. He _wanted_ to go on a date with Cas.

It just wasn’t the right time. It was never the right time.

Though it didn't stop Dean from wanting it to be.

He was standing in Cas’s living room, Emma between his legs as they slowly marched their way across the carpet. Claire was giddily cheering from the couch, arms thrown high in the air as she bellowed and whooped.

“Em-Em is so big!” She exclaimed. “Em-Em you can do it!”

“Da!” Emma squealed back, pounding her feet into the carpet like a victory stampede, minus the forward movement. Dean chuckled and kept his grip firm on his daughter’s, making sure she didn’t slip out of his grasp and fall.

“You got this, sweetie,” Dean encouraged. He nudged his own foot forward, watching in amazement as Emma stuck out her tongue and carefully mirrored his movement.

“Dada!” Emma shouted. Her whole face lit up in ecstasy as she bobbed her head and pushed forward. Her blonde hair flopped in front of her face, little pink and blue bows beginning to fall from her hair from the constant shaking and playing.

Dean smiled proudly when Emma reached their target chair without falling down. Emma latched her fingers around the chair seat and smacked her hands against the wood.

“O-Dada!” Emma exclaimed, giggling as she clapped her hands.

“You did it baby,” Dean grinned, running his fingers through her curly locks. “You’re so good! You can do anything, Em.”

Emma giggled and continued clapping and patting her hands.

“Did she make it all the way?” Cas’s voice carried into the room, and with it Dean noted the smell of brownies.

Dean’s stomach rumbled as he turned to smile at the entering man. Cas looked good that morning. He was dressed casually, perfect for a lazy Saturday. He wore a blue cardigan that matched his eyes, and rugged jeans that Dean could only guess were the man’s favorite. He went shoeless, socked feet padding across the carpet as he brought in the tray of goodies.

Claire squealed when she smelled the desserts. She rushed toward the table, fingers stretching forward, until Cas raised a hand.

“Be careful sweetheart,” he warned, “they’re very hot. Use the napkins.”

Claire nodded seriously and grabbed the available napkins first, allowing her father to pick up a hot brownie and place it in her covered hands.

“They smell awesome, Cas,” Dean grinned, ignoring the napkins and going straight for the steaming mounds of chocolate goodness. “Were these a box recipe?”

Cas shook his head and looked down as Emma crawled into his lap, making grabby hands for the table edge. Dean smiled at them fondly, watching as Cas helped her up onto her feet, back pressed against his chest as he pulled off a little brownie piece for his daughter. Cas blew on it and put the gooey chocolate in Emma’s hands. She beamed and squished it against her lips, chocolate spreading everywhere on her face. She would be lucky if any of it actually went in her mouth, but Dean couldn’t stop smiling as his daughter garbled happy noises and reached out for more.

“It was my mother’s recipe, actually,” Cas replied when Dean finally tried some for himself. “My mother gave the recipe to Anna, a traditionalist in the sense she believed girls should learn all the arts of the kitchen. Anna taught the recipe to me before she went to college.”

He almost swore, only stopping to be mindful of the children. The recipe was damn good, if Dean said so himself, which he didn’t because his mouth was busy. The brownies were incredible. They were the perfect amount of chewable chunks of deep rich chocolate and just enough gooeyness to keep Dean’s tongue busy chasing the corners of his mouth for more.

Claire was visibly, and equally, busy in chomping down her brownie piece. It was hot, but not hot enough to slow either of them down.

“Damn,” Dean groaned, immediately grabbing another. “She taught you good.”

Cas’s face turned cherry red as a slow smile spread across his face. “Thank you Dean,” he replied, picking up a napkin to clean off Emma’s cheeks. “Although, I have to say that Anna’s will always be better than mine.”

“That's bull,” Dean grumbled around his brownie, ignoring Cas’s chastising smirk as he grabbed a third chocolate square.

Emma had managed to eat enough small pieces to equal half a brownie square, and Claire had managed to wrangle a second brownie out of her father by the time Dean had slowed down around his fifth, only stopping out of his own sense of shame for stealing so many.

Cas didn’t seem to mind. He smiled at all of them, slowly eating his own as he explained to Claire that she couldn’t have anymore until after lunch. Emma was perfectly happy to smear as much of the remaining chocolate across her face as possible, unconcerned with the remaining brownies like Claire.

Dean was about to offer to take Emma back to clean her up when he caught Cas’s eye and hesitated. How long had Cas been staring? Dean quickly looked down at himself, making sure he hadn’t dropped any chocolate pieces on himself, but there was nothing that he could see.

“You,” Cas started, visibly swallowing, “uh, you have something right…”

Dean stared, dumbfounded as Cas vaguely pointed between the two of their faces. Dean reached up to his face but felt nothing. Cas groaned and grabbed a napkin, wasting no second as he leaned over and wiped the corner of Dean’s lip.

Both men immediately froze, staring at each other. Cas didn’t lower his hand for a moment, but the pressure didn’t lessen in any way. His hand hovered just above Dean’s chin, warm pressure tingling like an electrical shock, just waiting to make the connection.

“Cas,” Dean choked, unable to say much else. Cas blinked, otherwise unresponsive as he stared at Dean’s eyes. His gaze continued to drift down, catching the sight of his hand by Dean’s lips. Cas’s tongue poked out suddenly, licking his own lips. Dean found himself mirroring the action as they leaned forward, almost unconsciously, staring and hardly breathing.

Dear God, was he going to--

“Ew, daddy!” Claire exclaimed, shocking them both out of their trances.

“Wh--Claire?” Cas asked, eyes wild as he looked at his daughter. Claire was sticking her tongue out at them and shaking her hands in disgust.

“Kissing’s gross daddy! Ew!”

Dean immediately dropped his gaze and grabbed Emma out of Cas’s lap while his friend was distracted. He barely had time to notice Cas’s disappointment before he excused himself shakily, “I’ll just clean Emma up. Sorry.”

He didn’t dare look back as he rushed up the steps and entered the bathroom, setting Emma down on the counter carefully before grabbing a rag and wetting it in the sink.

Dean dedicated all of his attention to the chocolate smearing his daughter’s cheeks and plaid pink and blue dress, matching her bows that barely hung onto her hair.

“Oh, baby girl,” he murmured, heat racing through his veins and face as he scrubbed. Emma sniffled and batted away his hands, but he was determined.

He needed a distraction. He needed to not think about what just happened downstairs.

He almost kissed Cas. _He almost kissed Cas_ , and Cas almost kissed _back_.

Dean swallowed and blinked rapidly as he wet the rag once more and wiped the last of the chocolate away.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Cas’s lips would have felt like. Would they have been soft? Gentle? Firm? God, he was hopeless. He licked his lips, more than halfway wishing he had a taste of Cas there, something to feel that didn’t belong to himself. Something more.

Dean sighed, breath shuddering out of him with all the possibilities of what could have happened. He could have kissed Cas. It could have been good, and nice, and warm.

He couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone because he genuinely wanted to. That had to mean something good, right? When was the last time he kissed someone he liked? Maybe even loved? It had to be years.

“O-Da,” Emma gurgled, fingers clutching as his own. Dean stared at the connection between their hands, the difference of size between their fingers.

She was so little, so tiny. She would likely never know what this felt like, to want something and feel too damaged to take it. Dean was determined to never let his daughter be hurt the way he was. There was no way he’d allow it. She would make her own choices, but he’d make sure she understood the risks. She’d grow up and be smarter than him, wiser too.

Emma would have the life Dean was never allowed. She could live in one place instead of moving from motel room to motel room. She could have friends for years instead of making new friends every few months. Emma could date and fall in love with whoever she wanted. She would grow up and be allowed to figure out who she was and what she was interested in.

Dean would keep her safe from the evil out there, for as long as he could, not throw her out to the dark and let her figure it out alone.

She would never have to feel damaged, or afraid like Dean felt now. She wouldn’t have to fear how one single kiss could change her entire life, if she allowed it.

Emma bit on his finger, drawing Dean out of his thoughts. He looked at her carefully, admired the way her bright eyes stared up at him curiously.

She was so beautiful. He had no idea how he could ever deserve a child like her. Even when she was fussy and cried when she couldn’t sleep, she was beautiful. He loved her like nothing else.

What frightened him was how he felt something similar for the man downstairs, but in a way that was completely different than a father’s love for his daughter.

It was a hope of something more. It was a hope of stepping into something even greater, more beautiful.

As Dean fixed the bows in Emma’s hair, a thought struck him suddenly. Emma’s hair was the same color as Claire’s. An image appeared in his mind, unbidden, of Emma and Claire playing when they were older, in the front yard of Cas’s home. He imagined them as sisters, while he and Cas sat in the background and watched them play, hands intertwined.

Dean shook his head and put away the rag, returning his attention to his daughter.

Could he ever have that? A future with somebody else? A future where he didn’t have to be alone? In fear?

He swallowed and placed Emma on his hip, unlocking the bathroom door and stepping back out into the hall.

Maybe… maybe he could have a future after all.

Dean stepped downstairs and quickly found Claire playing with her blocks and dolls in the living room. Dean sat Emma down beside her, murmuring instructions for Claire to help Emma play before he turned his attention to the kitchen.

He could hear the sound of utensils clattering, Cas setting up to make lunch for the four of them. The four of them, together, Dean thought fondly.

Butterflies erupted in his stomach as he stepped into the kitchen, watching as Cas moved gracefully around the island to pull out everything they’d need for sandwiches, fruit, and juice. Well, he looked graceful at first. It took only a second look for Dean to realize Cas was just as jittery as Dean felt. His hands were more uncoordinated as usual, limbs trembling as he pulled bread out of the cupboards and meat out of the fridge.

Dean coughed into his hand, alerting Cas to his presence. Cas almost dropped a jar of jelly as he stared up at Dean, worry drawn in his gaze.

“Dean, I didn’t mean--”

“It’s okay,” Dean interrupted, raising his hands. “I was just… unprepared.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas continued anyway. His hands tightened around the jar in his grip, fingers whitening around the edges. “It was still wrong. I shouldn’t have… I know you’ve been through a lot, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Take advantage of me,” he echoed, testing the words on his lips. “That’s like saying I haven’t considered what it would mean to…”

“Kiss me?” Cas offered, eyes darting away in shame. “It shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Dean stared at him, heart suddenly sinking.

“Do you… not want it to happen again?” He asked, hating the way his voice faltered. “Because… I wouldn’t mind.”

He couldn’t remember being this daring. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted something like this. Someone. Hist heart thundered in his chest as he stared at Cas, watched as the man swallowed and finally looked up at him.

“You wouldn’t?” Cas sounded skeptical, afraid.

Dean nodded slowly and stepped around the island counter, daring to move closer to the man who was reshaping his entire perspective on life, aside from Tessa and Sam.

Tessa and Sam helped him want to believe he had a future. Cas made Dean want to believe he didn’t have to be alone. Both were too promising and too beautiful to ignore. And Dean wanted. He wanted more than he ever thought he could.

“No,” he replied, voice thick. “I wouldn’t.”

Cas was only a foot away. Dean could touch him if he tried. But he didn’t dare. Not if Cas didn’t want to. If Cas didn’t want this after all… Dean wasn’t sure what he would do. But he had just enough inside him now to believe that there was something possible here. That maybe Cas would actually want him, damage and past and all. It was too much to imagine, but just enough to hope. It was just enough to try.

Cas set down the jar on the counter beside them, swallowing once more as he kept his gaze firmly latched on Dean’s.

“You’re sure,” he said, still questioning. Dean nodded firmly. It was all he could do at this point. His throat was dry, lips parted. He was moments away from leaning forward, sealing the distance between them. But he didn’t dare. He was waiting.

Cas’s hands steadily reached up, cupping Dean’s jaw and holding him in place. He didn’t pull or push, he simply held. Dean felt his body fill with warmth, shocks of light touching every corner of his being as he stared at Cas’s face, gaze darting between Cas’s eyes and his lips.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Cas said, almost a whisper. “I just want to get this right. I want… I need this to be good for you. If you’re ready, I am too.”

Dean felt himself melt. He smiled, albeit shakily, and nodded hard in Cas’s hands.

“I’m ready,” he replied, more resolutely than he ever believed himself to be possible.

Cas’s face erupted into a smile that lit up his entire face. It was like looking into the sun, probably helped by the way the late morning sunlight reflecting off his sky blue eyes through the kitchen window.

“Me too,” Cas said. With that, he leaned forward. Dean met him halfway.

He was right. Cas’s lips were just as soft as he imagined. But, as he expected, they were even better than he could have ever dreamed.

It almost felt like coming alive again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked it! thank you for reading. please let me know what you think if you have time~next update should be by next tuesday if all goes well.
> 
> again, thank you!!


	25. Land of Opportunity - A Great Big World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think it's a little overdue to see how sam's been dealing with things :)
> 
> some more fluff, some friendship talks, and some real talk between brothers. hope you guys like it!
> 
> apologies for any mistakes in editing~they are all my own (and i will fix them later if there are any. thank you!)

Land of Opportunity - A Great Big World

_I just gotta believe there's something better._

_I just gotta believe there's something more than you and me._

_I've just gotta believe, I've just gotta believe._

 

“Hey kiddo, did you hear Luci’ skipped town?”

Sam looked up from his files in time to see Gabriel swing the door closed behind him, smirk playing at his lips and lollipop set between his fingers.

“You mean Lucifer?” Sam asked. The last he’d heard of Lucifer, Crowley was supposed to be representing the man in a settlement case. Of course, he figured it was a guise for Crowley to get to Dean. “Did his claim get resolved?”

Gabriel shook his head and plopped into the seat across from Sam’s desk. “Nope,” he replied, biting on the sugar coating of his treat. “In fact, I thought you’d be interested, Lucifer pulled back his entire claim and got out of town fast. To make things stranger, there’s a rumor going around that Luci’ didn’t even submit a claim. Some people think the documents were faked, and the old man was only in town to do some other unrelated business.”

Sam counted back from ten and leaned back in his seat, breathing out slowly.

He shouldn’t have felt surprised. It would make sense if Crowley had faked information, pretending to be representing a client. It would easily give him and alibi if the police ever did track him down, which Sam now knew to be impossible. Dean had told them so. Sam should have believed him sooner, before Dean ended up trapped with the man for an hour in that God forsaken warehouse.

“You okay there, Sam?” Gabriel asked, eyes narrowing in concern. “Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” Sam grunted. He ran his hand through his hair and leaned forward, trying to focus on his discarded work. It no longer held his interest.

“You know that Crowley disappeared right after…”

Gabriel nodded, expression dark. “Yeah, I remember. Dean looked better though, last time I saw him. How’s he doing?”

Sam forced a smile and shrugged. “He’s been healing. I think it’s really helped with all the support he’s been getting, especially with Cas. The two of them have spent a lot of time together lately.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gabriel groaned. “Whenever I ask my brother about what he’s been up to, all he talks about is Dean, you, and Emma. Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t seen him this happy since he moved out and went to college. But there’s only so much I like to hear about Emma’s obsession with bouncy balls or Dean’s freckles--”

“Cas talks about Dean’s _freckles_?” Sam gaped.

Gabriel shrugged and twirled the lollipop between his teeth. “Hey, I’m just saying the kid and your brother might have a thing going on. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out those moon eyes they’ve been making at each other turn into something else.”

Sam felt his gut tighten on instinct. He didn’t want to feel anxious, or hesitant about this. He should be thrilled. His brother moving forward and being loved in the way he deserved… there was nothing better than that.

But wasn’t it too soon? It’d barely been more than a month since Crowley. Their lives had definitely gotten back to normal, aside from the few changes of Castiel finding the new teaching position at the college downtown, and Dean increasing his sessions with Tessa.

Sam, on the other hand, had nothing but his work to keep him occupied. Dean was an adult, and had made it very clear that he didn’t need to be mother-henned, regardless of Sam’s need to make sure Dean was truly healing.

But ever since Crowley? It’d been a month and a half and Sam couldn’t explain it, but Dean seemed to be recovering faster than he did back when Sam found him in South Dakota.

Something had changed between the past seven months since those days at the hospital, and now after Crowley and the past returned.

The only true difference Sam could see was Cas.

Sam swallowed down his worry and fear. He tried to remind himself this was a good thing, after all. Anything positive in Dean’s life was good.

He just didn’t want it to be too soon for Dean.

“You’re spacing out again there, kiddo.”

Sam looked up in time for Gabriel to school his face into a relaxed expression, but Sam could see the worry in his eyes. His friend had always worried about him; ever since they met in Stanford, Gabriel would fuss over him and make sure Sam was doing okay.

Sam smiled, hopefully reassuring his closest friend and nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied. “You know… I really do think I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Gabriel replied, raising an eyebrow. But his friend smiled and twisted the lollipop in his mouth again before standing and heading for the door. The man paused in the doorway, hand on the doorknob as he glanced back one more time.

“If you need me, you know where to find me Sam. My phone’s always on.”

“Thanks Gabe,” Sam replied with a smile. “Seriously.”

“No problem bucko’,” Gabriel winked. With that, he left the office and closed the door behind him.

Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair. He stared at the ceiling for several moments, lost in his own thoughts.

He needed to talk to Dean.

…

It was evening by the time Sam was able to wrap up his work and head home. He walked through the door to the sound of Riot’s happy barking and the smell of pasta and tomato sauce from the kitchen.

“Hey boy,” Sam beamed, dropping his briefcase and squatting to let his dog in his arms. “Have you been good today?”

Riot yipped and licked his face in reply, making Sam laugh and wipe off the drool with his sleeve.

“Hey Dean, you cooking?” Sam called when he stood again, shedding his coat.

“Yeah,” Dean called back. “Get in here and dish up before it gets cold.”

Sam licked his lips and hurried to obey. The kitchen was warm from the heat of the stove. Sam would have immediately made a run for a bowl and silverware, but something stopped him.

Dean. If Sam didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn his brother was… _glowing_.

“Did… you have a good day today?” Sam asked, coughing to hide the hesitation in his voice. He dished up quickly, pretending not to watch Dean’s reactions as his brother put a small bowl in front of Emma in her high chair.

“Yeah,” Dean replied vaguely. “Emma and I stopped by Cas’s place this morning. Figured we could burn a few hours and get Emma and Claire some play time together.”

“I assume it went well?” Sam asked, working hard to keep his own questions vague. Gabriel’s words were still spinning in his head. Were Dean and Cas attracted to each other? Was something going on that Sam hadn’t realized yet?

Sam bit his lip and made a straight line for the table. He sat down and started digging in, watching his brother carefully.

Dean was glowing again. His eyes were bright and a smile was set perfectly across his face.

“Uh…” Dean hummed, “yeah. It was awesome. Really awesome.” He grabbed his own bowl and met with Sam at the table. “Emma made a lot of progress walking today. She’ll probably start getting some real steps in the next few weeks.”

“That’s awesome, Dean.”

He watched as Dean played with his food, smiling as he chewed his lower lip instead of the pasta.

 _Shit,_ Sam realized, suddenly. Something had happened. With Cas. He lowered his fork slowly and stared at his older brother, senses heightening.

“Did anything else happen?”

Dean’s hand stilled, fork half twisted in noodles as Dean stared at the bowl. His eyes grew distant, reminiscent. Sam stared and waited.

“Sam, I did something. Something big.”

Sam’s heart double timed. “Oh?”

Dean twirled his fork again, eyes narrowing as he pulled up the utensil to his lips. Sam barely heard a muffled, “ _Imight’vekissedCas,_ ” before the food was roughly shoveled in and Dean began eating with gusto.

Sam dropped his fork. He couldn’t have heard that right.

“You… _kissed Cas_?” Sam echoed, daring himself to believe it.

Dean didn’t reply. Instead he picked up an empty glass on the table and walked toward the sink, turning on the faucet and shoving the glass beneath the water stream.

“Dean! You kissed him?”

“He kissed me back!” Dean finally exclaimed, shutting off the faucet. “It’s not like I took advantage of him.”

“But you _kissed him_ ,” Sam deadpanned. “Dean, this is huge. This is really important.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Dean brought the glass to his lips and swallowed hard. “But Sam… it wasn’t bad. It was really good. I… I liked it, Sammy.”

It took Sam a moment to realize Dean’s glow had completely faded. His brother looked anxious, knuckles squeezed tight and white around the edges where he clutched the glass in his hands. If he held on any tighter, Sam was certain the glass would shatter.

He wasn’t helping.

“No, Dean, it’s okay. I’m glad. I’m happy as hell for you, I just… are you ready? I know it hasn’t been long since--”

“It’s been over seven months since Abbi,” Dean interrupted, dropping his glass on the counter. “And over a month since Crowley. I just… I didn’t realize how much I needed this. I needed a change.”

“But a relationship? Have you talked anything through with Cas? Told him what you’re feeling--”

“We talked enough,” Dean replied. His hands tightened on the counter edge, his jaw stiffening.

 _You’re still not helping_ , Sam told himself bitterly.

Dean continued, “Cas didn’t want to take advantage of me, and I don’t want to do that to him either. It just felt right. I don’t want to feel bad about it, Sam.”

“I don’t want you to either,” Sam reassured.

Dean stared at him for several moments. Sam was unsure what his brother was thinking, or even feeling. But after a minute, his brother’s features softened and Dean nodded.

“I’ve realized things Sam,” he started, finally. “I need to take some agency again. I’m tired of running behind everyone, asking for permission like everything I do isn’t up to me. It’s like Abbi all over again, only this time at least nobody’s going to hurt me like she did.”

Sam clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to speak. This was his brother’s moment. It was his time to speak. It was long overdue anyway, and Sam hadn’t heard Dean talk about anything related to Abbi or Crowley since everything ended.

Dean stared at Emma as he continued, “I like Cas. I like living in California around people who care about me. But I think I need my own space. I need to know I can do things by myself again. Make my own decisions.”

A pregnant pause followed. Sam cleared his throat and nodded.

“You can make your own decisions Dean,” he replied, softly. He watched the muscles in Dean’s jaw flex, his knuckles turn white at the edges. “I don’t want to stop you. I just want you to be happy, Dean.”

Dean frowned and shook his head.

“I think I want to move out.”

Sam flinched. _Move out_. Dean wanted to move out. He wanted to _leave_. Sam stared between Dean and Emma, tried to figure out how Castiel and moving out even related to each other. There was no way Dean would do something that foolish. Dean wouldn’t move in with Cas just like that, so soon. He’d just been talking about needing space, his own agency to make his own decisions.

Sam’s mouth dropped, tongue desperately searching for words, but Dean rescued him.

“I’ve been looking at apartments,” Dean explained, voice soft and hesitant. “I’ve been putting aside the money I’ve been earning at Bobby’s. I’ve been living out of your house for seven months Sammy. I’m thirty years old for Christ’s sakes. I think it’s time I had a place of my own, don’t you?”

Sam felt heat burning behind his eyes. Deep down, he knew this was probably right. It was probably healthy, damnit. But it didn’t make Sam feel any better.

He’d lost his brother for two years. He’d had him back for seven months. He didn’t want Dean to move out so soon. He didn’t want his brother to be away from him. Not after everything that had happened.

He licked his lips, tightening his fists so they wouldn’t betray his trembling. “H-Have you talked to Tessa…? About moving?”

Dean shook his head and crossed his arms. “Not yet. But the way things have been going, I think it’s the right time.”

“Don’t make any decisions until you talk to her,” Sam said, finding his tongue no longer under his control. “Please. For me.”

Dean nodded and returned to the table, sitting down and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Okay, Sam.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and rested his head in his hands. Dean’s voice pulled him back before he could spiral into his thoughts again.

“But Sam… even if I do move out, I’m not leaving the city. You know that, right? I’ll still be close and we’ll see each other all the time.”

Sam laughed, though the humor felt gone. His chest ached. He knew this was the right thing.

God, when did this become a problem for him? Sam was supposed to be supportive. He should’ve felt ecstatic, right?

He probably needed to talk to someone. Bobby, at the very least. This was too much to take in. Dean likely dating Cas. Dean moving out.

It felt too soon for everything to be changing so suddenly.

“I really wish you’d say something man,” Dean said, voice strained and too high pitched for Sam’s comfort. He looked up to see Dean’s eyes wide and fearful. Sam hated himself for causing his brother more grief.

He was happy for Dean. He was more than happy. He just wanted Dean to be the same.

“I’m just really happy for you Dean,” Sam replied. He reached out and grabbed his brother’s arm, thrilled when Dean didn’t fight him and let him pull his big brother into a tight embrace.

“Should’ve postponed telling you,” Dean grunted. “Should’ve known there would be theatrics.”

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled, sniffling as he smiled into his brother’s shoulder. “Let me be happy for you, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Sam laughed that time, genuine and heartfelt. Dean laughed too.

It was the best thing Sam had ever heard. But the best part of all? Dean glowed.


	26. I Really Want It - A Great Big World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry for the long wait. I recently started counseling and was put on medication, so the past few weeks have been pretty rocky and challenging for me. However, I started my meds last week and I've been feeling a lot better and significantly more motivated, so I managed to finally wrap up the next chapter for you.
> 
> Apologies for it's shortness. This chapter is more of a fill-in for the next few chapters and setting up for the official ending.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience! Thank you for sticking with me and writing all of your comments. It's been such a blessing to me and I can't even begin to thank you for your kindness and support.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter. Again, I'm sorry it's not as long as I wanted it to be. Please enjoy!

I Really Want It - A Great Big World

_I'm feeling the world go round_   
_It's spinning me upside down_   
_I'm finally homeward bound_   
_I'm not giving up_

 

“You don’t think this is a bad idea, do you?” Sam asked, keeping his face neutral to avoid betraying his anxiety.

Benny shrugged and took another shot from his glass. The two were sitting in Benny and Charlie’s bar and restaurant. The place was closed, not yet reaching the glorious five o’clock hour that most men and women yearned for. It gave the place an empty and hollow atmosphere, needing to be filled and lightened with energy and music.

But for now, it was exactly what Sam needed. It was quiet, and it gave room for everything Sam needed to get out.

“I think it’s up ta’ Dean to decide what’s good or not.” Benny swirled the amber liquid in his glass and locked gazes with Sam. “What’re ya’ really worried about, Sam?”

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. What wasn’t there to be worried about? What if it was too soon? What if it turned into a huge mistake and Dean lost a significant amount of money through moving? What if…

“I’m worried that if this turns out bad for him, then it’s going to hurt him more. Dean doesn’t need that right now.”

Benny nodded in understanding.

“Fair enough,” he replied. “But, ya’ gotta’ let him choose, right? He’s an adult. Dean can make that call.”

“I’m just worried,” Sam muttered. He stared at the glass Benny had poured for him, sitting untouched on the counter in front of him. He picked it up and drained it in one swallow. When he set the glass down, he turned to see Benny watching him carefully.

“Don’t think that’s wrong, chief,” Benny rumbled. “But I don’ think it’s fair to take away his choice either.”

Sam nodded and smiled weakly. “Yeah. I get that.”

“If ya’ need to talk it out some more, ya’ know Charlie and I are always around. We’ll make the time.”

“Thanks,” Sam replied, heart a little more set at ease. “I do appreciate that.”

Benny nodded and raised his glass in a half cheer. “And hey, if all else fails, at least Dean knows he’s got you and all o’ us to support ‘im after.”

Sam raised his empty glass and met Benny halfway, smiling genuinely this time.

“Absolutely.”

...

In the end, Tessa completely supportive of Dean getting his own place. She called it a healthy step in the right direction, establishing more of his autonomy and social boundaries. Dean didn’t understand _everything_ she said, but he definitely got the point.

Getting an apartment was a good idea, and better, it would be good for _him_.

Sam was just as supportive as he said he’d be, which Dean was grateful for. He helped Dean lookup realtors that might help Dean find exactly what he was looking for.

All Dean wanted was a kid friendly apartment that was close to where he worked, hopefully close to Cas and Sam too.

In the end, it was Cas who helped them find a good realtor.

“Her name is Hannah Carroll,” Cas explained. “She helped me find a place while I was in college. She’d be perfect.”

Dean gave her a call that evening, and within a day, Dean found himself faced with excellent choices. But price was an issue, of course, and it took over a week to get everything narrowed down to exactly what he was looking for.

“This place has a park _just down the street_ ,” Dean beamed, showing Sam the pictures Hannah had sent him. “Cas and I have been there too. Emma would love being so close to a playground. We could go down any time we wanted.”

“Dean, it’s nine hundred a month,” Sam pointed out.

Dean shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. “I can swing it if I work longer hours at the shop. If I’m there from seven to four, Emma and I could live there comfortably. No hassle.”

“Do you wanna do that?” Sam asked. “Work longer hours?”

Dean smiled. “It’s worth it man. I’m okay with it.”

Sam nodded and grinned back. “Well then, that’s that. Call Hannah.”

They looked at it the next morning. It was just as beautiful as it described. While the apartment was only big enough for two people, the living room and kitchen had open and combined spaces. Dean imagined making a home there, filling it with furniture bought with the money he’d been putting aside, raising Emma in this place and seeing her grow up.

He liked the sound of that.

There was only one problem with the place. The paint job was hideous.

“Are there any rules that I can’t paint over this?” Dean asked, bouncing Emma on his hip.

Hannah smiled and shook her head.

“I know the landlord. The only rule is, if you paint it, you have to put it back the way you found it whenever you leave.”

Dean grinned and kissed Emma’s forehead.

“Perfect.”

…

Anna watched the kids on moving day. It was the safest option with everyone marching furniture into the apartment, feet stomping and no one able to pay attention to possible children scurrying around their legs.

Cas, Benny, and Charlie carried the heaviest items; they brought in the sofas, bookshelves, and cabinets. Sam and Gabriel happily took care of organizational duties, helping Dean figure out the best layout of his new home and how to set it up accordingly.

Gabriel had an unusually high investment in Dean’s lack of candy being put in the pantry.

“Dude, not even lollipops?”

“Give me a few weeks. We’ll see,” Dean replied with a wink.

Painting was the hard part. Everyone had come before moving day to get the biggest job done, and now that everything was in it’s rightful place, Dean felt proud. The furniture matched the creme design, and the space felt warm and open. It was the perfect place to truly start over.

“This was a good choice, Dean,” Cas whispered beside him, kissing his cheek gently before breaking into a smile. Dean beamed in return and took another look around the apartment.

“I agree,” Dean replied. “Thank you for putting me in touch with Hannah.”

“You’re welcome.” Cas’s fingers brushed Dean’s, lacing together when Dean opened his palm to the touch. “When I was in college I found myself too strapped for funds to keep living on campus. I needed an apartment asap. Hannah was studying at the same time as me and offered me a room with her family until I could get a new place. Which I did.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, jealousy itching the corners of his senses. “Were you two a thing back then?”

Castiel huffed and shook his head. “Absolutely not. She’s a good friend, but more like a sister. Besides, we’re attracted to different kinds of people.”

If the wink didn’t give away the hidden meaning, his smirk did. Dean smiled and squeezed his boyfriend’s hand.

“I’m glad she helped you.”

“I can say the same for you now, too,” Cas replied. “Now, should we introduce Emma to her new home?”

Dean beamed. “Absolutely.”


	27. Hard to Find - The National

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and holiday season! There's only another chapter or two before this story is over. Thank you so much for your patience throughout this story, and I'm so grateful for all your comments! They've been blessings in my life and gave me the strength and inspiration to keep going :) I'm incredibly grateful for all of you.
> 
> Thank you! I hope you like the next chapter. :)

Hard to Find - The National

  
_There's a lot I've not forgotten_  
 _I let go of other things_  
 _If I tried they'd probably be_   _h_ _ard to find_  


  
_They can all_   _j_ _ust kiss off into the air_  


 

Life was surreal. All at once, Dean felt as though he’d been thrown years into the past; it was as though he’d never met Abbi, as though nothing bad had ever happened to him. It was bliss, waking up every morning to a home of his own, him and Emma starting their day together and driving to Anna’s and work. Sometimes Castiel would stop by the auto shop and drop off lunch. Sometimes Dean would grab Cas’s hand and sneak him out back, where they made out in abandoned salvage cars until they had to return to work again.

Then, once work had ended, Dean would stop by and see Sam with Emma. They’d have dinner together every other day, just like when they were younger and instead of dinner they would exchange phone calls whenever they were able. Now, there was no distance, and Dean treasured the time he now had with his brother. Yet now, having his own apartment, Dean felt like he’d finally created boundaries again. 

He felt safe and loved. He had his family, and he had Cas. Nothing could be better than that.

Tessa was happy for him. Their sessions were growing less frequent with every month that passed. When summer hit, Dean was the one to suggest shortening their sessions to every other week. Tessa had smiled and made a note of it in her calendar.

“Do you feel like these sessions have been helping you?” She asked, not unkindly. 

Dean nodded. “It doesn’t hurt the way it used too,” he replied. “It still hurts, but not as bad.”

“How do you feel now?”

He shrugged. “I feel… like I’m still dealing with how everything affected me, but it feels like there’s a distance now. I know I was hurt, but I don’t think about it as much as I used to. I just want to never think about it again. I keep thinking everything will finally be okay again once that happens.”

Tessa smiled and twirled her pen between her fingers. “I wish I could tell you the same,” she began. “What happened to you will never go away. But the beautiful thing is that it won’t always control your life. You can move forward, and you have been.”

“It feels that way,” Dean replied. “I just keep waiting for the other shoe to fall.”

“What will you do? If the other shoe does fall?” Tessa asked.

Dean hesitated and looked around the office. It was still the same as it was when Dean first started coming. It felt like it’d been a lifetime since Crowley broke back into Dean’s life. Dean could remember everything in vivid detail, especially in his nightmares--which were fortunately decreasing with time--but there was a detachment now that Dean had never experienced before. He found himself thinking less and less about Crowley and his assault. It still crossed his mind at least once a day, sometimes infinitely more that would cause shivers to race up his spine and shake him to the point that he needed to sit down, but more often than not, his flashbacks were less than ever. His memories didn’t control his every waking moment.

He didn’t think about Abbi. He didn’t think about Crowley. More and more, his thoughts were consumed with Emma, Sam, Charlie and Benny and Gabe… Cas. 

Slowly, over time, he could think about the good things. It wasn’t always enough to keep the bad days away, but it was enough to give him strength to survive them.

“Call Sam or Cas,” Dean replied, finally. “They know me better than anyone. If something happens… I think I’d make them my first call.”

“It’s good to have people who can support you,” Tessa smiled.

Dean smiled back. “Yeah. I think so.”

The good days continued like a perfectly blended dream. Emma was babbling new words all the time. Dean doubted she knew what any of them really meant, aside from ‘Dada,’ but he was enjoying seeing what words she would form next. Sam was highly encouraging, often repeating himself a dozen times to make sure Emma would go home with a new word, if at all possible. Cas was kinder about it, and before Dean realized it, his boyfriend and Claire were spending more and more hours at Dean’s apartment in the evenings.

Dean liked seeing Cas on his sofa, in his living room, playing with a giggly Emma in his lap and poking at her toes. Claire would always be close by, playing with her dolls and demanding her father and Emma to pay attention to her latest scheme. 

Dean was all too happy to give it to her. His favorite afternoons were the ones spent in the kitchen with Claire scurrying around his legs, handing him whatever he asked for until Claire was as familiar with his kitchen as he was.

Claire was becoming an expert for her age. Dean loved it whenever Cas stopped by, barely closing the door behind him before Claire was already jumping into Dean’s arms and waving a recipe she’d had her dad print off at home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Cas would always begin, but Dean would silence him with a kiss.

“I never do,” Dean replied, smiling. Cas beamed back, and Dean easily won two more kisses before Claire was dragging him further into the house to find the supplies they’d need. 

Dean loved Claire. He loved Cas, and he loved how both of their families joined together so seamlessly. It was absolutely perfect, even with the rocky days when Dean was too tired to keep Claire busy or the days he barely had energy to go to work, let alone plan his dates and evenings with Cas.

Cas was understanding, however, and it was on those days that Cas would either grant Dean the space he needed, or simply invite Dean over to Cas’s house while the kids played at Anna’s. Those nights often found Dean on the couch, a blanket thrown over his shoulders as an old black and white movie played on the television. Cas, meanwhile, would do all the cooking, and Dean wouldn’t have to lift a single finger.

He hated feeling useless. Cas made it easy to let go long enough to forget. 

But then, it was also easy to remember the one thing they didn’t have. Sex. 

Dean didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to dwell on it for even a second, as it only filled him with anxiety and stress. 

He’d mentioned it to Tessa only once. There was something strange about talking to a woman about gay sex, but Dean wasn’t ready for that. Talking about Crowley and Abbi was one thing. It was assault. This was about consensual sex, and the fact was that Dean was scared shitless of having it. 

He liked their quiet evenings. He liked curling up on the sofa with Cas after a long day of work, their legs tangled and their breaths slow and deep and rhythmic as they drifted off into slumber. Intimacy wasn’t all about sex, and Dean knew that. But it was odd spending so much of his life in sexual encounters and then… not having it. Especially when it came to Cas, who Dean was steadily seeing as a permanent fixture in his life. It was nearly impossible to imagine any kind of life without Cas involved in it, and it only added to his guilt that Dean wasn’t giving more.

Did Cas even want more? Was he upset that Dean continually shut down any sexual advances before they could ever begin? Was Dean hurting Cas?

The thought made him want to vomit. Somewhere in his gut Dean knew that wasn’t the case. Thanks to Tessa, Dean was starting to understand more clearly just how vital being consensual was to his life, and saying yes when he really wanted to say no just wasn’t going to solve any of his problems.

But it was tempting, and the desire to say yes was growing all the time. Dean just wasn’t sure if he was ready to stomach the idea--yet. 

“Dean!”

He was snapped out of his thoughts as he wheeled himself out from under a Ford, soon meeting eyes with Bobby’s concerned gaze. 

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes, boy,” Bobby grunted, crossing his arms. “I was gonna’ ask ya’ if you’d be willing to put in a few extra hours this evening. I got a job that’s bein’ tricky and I need my best hands involved. That’s you.”

Dean nodded in understanding, thoughts immediately drifting to Emma. “I gotta’ make a call first,” he replied. “I should be able to do it.”

“I’ll cross my fingers,” Bobby grumbled, but waved it off and stepped away.

Dean sighed and sat up, stretching his back after laying down for so long. He’d have to call Cas, first off. They’d planned to have dinner together with the girls that evening, but if Dean was putting in extra hours it wasn’t likely to happen. But Emma would need a sitter longer than Anna was working, and Dean didn’t want to put more on her last minute.

But Cas was planning on staying around, so he would likely be willing to watch Emma until Dean was off work.

Dean’s cell phone was in his hands before he finished the thought.

“This is Castiel Novak,” Cas’s voice rumbled over the line. Dean smiled and tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear, grabbing a rag to wipe the grease from his fingers. 

“Hey, it’s Dean.”

He heard Cas sigh, no doubt smiling on the other side. “Dean,” Cas sounded pleased. “It’s good to hear from you. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Dean replied. “Just found out I might have to put in some extra hours tonight, and I know we had plans.”

“No, that’s alright,” Cas reassured. “I understand. Would you like me to watch Emma in the meantime? I’m sure Claire would love the company.”

“That would be awesome, Cas.” Dean smiled and took the phone in his hand once more. “How are you though? Everything going good in class?”

Cas sighed again, this time tired and drawn out. “The last assignment I gave was a bit much for my students. Grading is… very difficult.”

“Hey, you can get through it,” Dean said, gently. “How long do you have to grade?”

“More than enough time, thank God,” Cas chuckled. “It’s just… tedious.”

“Well, when I get off work maybe we can find some ways to keep you motivated.”

Cas sucked in a breath, and Dean wasn’t far off either. Did he seriously just say that? He bit his lip and closed his eyes, unsure if he regretted the statement or not. 

Castiel spoke before Dean could reign in his thoughts. “That sounds nice. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Dean managed, licking his lips, wondering how they got so dry. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Good luck at work Dean.”

“You too.”

Cas hung up before Dean did, leaving him to the loud machinery of the garage and Dean’s coworkers. One of the men looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“You look like you swallowed something sour,” the guy called over the noise.

Dean shrugged. “We’ll see.” He pocketed the phone quickly after that.

He worked for several long hours that passed far too quickly for Dean’s comfort. In the end, he worked later than he meant to, but it was worth finishing the project and not having to think about it again--even if he left work when the sun had long since set. 

But it was on the drive home that Dean finally had enough silence to listen to his fears and anxiety. What if Cas thought Dean had offered sex? What if Cas wanted it? What if Dean couldn’t give it to him?

Dean bit his lip and parked his car, closing his eyes and counting his breaths like Tessa had taught him. He could do this. It was probably nothing anyway. 

Inside the apartment was warm and flushed with light. Dean sighed in relief as he dropped his keys in the tray by the door and kicked off his shoes and coat. He could hear the sound of movement in the kitchen as he rounded the bend, and sure enough, Castiel was shuffling about. Food sat on the counter, steam rising from two plates of chicken and vegetables, Cas busy finishing the potatoes. Dean’s stomach rumbled appreciatively.

“That looks… awesome.”

Cas turned and smiled at him. “I’m glad,” he replied, walking over and kissing Dean gently. “I wasn’t sure if you had anything to eat for dinner. The girls are sleeping in Emma’s room. I pulled the cot out for Claire.”

“Great,” Dean smiled, sighing when Cas kissed him again. He followed blindly as Cas led him to the kitchen, handing him a plate and picking up another before setting them down on the kitchen table. 

It tasted as amazing as it looked, but Dean wasn’t surprised. Cas was very good at cooking. He’d always claimed it was because of raising a little girl in the house by himself, but Dean suspected Cas had a natural gift for creating things. By the time he’d finished eating, his stomach was full and his body was sated. He could easily imagine curling up under a dozen blankets and sleeping for the rest of the week. 

Except for the look in Cas’s eye--and it wasn’t unfamiliar. 

Dean felt the familiar rumble of anxiety build in his gut. 

“Is something on your mind, Dean?” Cas reached out slowly and placed his palm over Dean’s hand, sending shocks up Dean’s arm and ringing alarm bells in his mind. He hated it when Cas was worried, and Cas’s eyebrows were drawn up in concern, gaze soft and gentle in a way that always left Dean gooey and anxious. Because as usual, Cas was concerned for a reason, and Dean knew why.

“No,” Dean replied, trying not to wince at the outright lie. He must have failed, because Cas’s brows lowered and his hand tightened around Dean’s. 

“Are you sure?” Cas asked. “You’ve been acting differently lately.”

“I’m getting better,” Dean replied. He pulled away from Cas and grabbed their empty plates, ignoring the conversation and turning toward the kitchen. He sensed Cas following him to the next room. Dean kept his gaze down and put the dishes in the sink. “I’m working on moving past everything that happened. That’s not a bad thing.”

Cas was quiet as Dean worked. It wasn’t until Dean was putting away the second dish that Cas spoke, “I never said it was.”

“Then what are you really worried about?” Dean snapped, immediately hating himself for it. Cas sighed and pressed his palms against the counter, leaning his weight against it as he leveled his gaze to match Dean’s.

“Would you like me to be frank?” 

“I’d prefer it, actually.”

“You panic about sex.”

Dean flinched and dropped his glass. Cas was quick enough to catch it, but it didn’t ease Dean’s raging anxiety. 

If Cas noticed Dean’s panic, he didn’t mention it. Instead he continued, “Whenever we’re… intimate, you pull away whenever we move past kissing. You jerk back if I touch you in a way you weren’t expecting. I’ve been trying to move slower, but I feel it hasn’t been helping. I don’t know what you need from me, Dean.”

Dean avoided his eyes and took the glass from Cas’s hand. He set it in the sink and turned on the faucet, washing it out slowly. “Do you want sex, Cas?”

He didn’t expect the silence that followed. Dean set the glass away and finally dared to look at his boyfriend, surprised when he saw Cas’s eyes even more concerned than before. 

“It shouldn’t matter if I want it,” Cas replied, gaze set and serious. “What matters is that you don’t. It’s alright if you don’t, but I’d prefer that you would tell me so I don’t make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to be led on for something that’s not going to be good for either of us, especially you. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Dean muttered. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, counting backward from ten before he looked at Cas directly, turning his body to face Cas’s. “I know,” he repeated. “I just… I don’t know what I want, Cas.”

“Then tell me,” Cas replied. “You don’t have to be afraid of talking to me, Dean. That’s what we’re supposed to do.”

“I get that Cas,” Dean snapped. “I do. I just can’t get over the fact that every time we take a step in that direction I’m convinced it’s going to end badly. I don’t want that.”

Cas nodded solemnly. He reached out and touched Dean’s shoulder. Dean selfishly leaned into the contact, smiling weakly when Cas pulled him into an embrace. 

“That’s okay, Dean,” he replied. “I don’t think I can guarantee anything, except that I can wait. You know that, don’t you Dean?”

Dean sighed and buried his face in Cas’s shoulder. “Yeah. I think so.”

Cas nodded and held Dean tighter. “We’ll go as slow as you want. I just wanted to know…”

“If it was even an option?”

Cas chuckled and kissed Dean’s temple. “For lack of a better term, yes.”

“Well,” Dean smiled, finally feeling his body begin to relax again, “It is an option. I just don’t know how soon.”

“That’s okay, Dean.”

“Thank you Cas.”

He felt another kiss on his forehead before Cas pulled away to look him in the eyes. “It’s what you deserve, Dean. Now, what would you like to do next?”

“Sleep, to be honest.”

“I’ll get Claire then,” Cas murmured.

Dean snatched Cas’s wrist before he could step away. Cas’s eyes snapped to his, eyebrows rising curiously. 

“You… don’t have to do that,” Dean whispered, licking his lips. “I don’t think I’m ready for…  _ that _ . But, if you want… Stay?”

Cas’s eyes widened. A smile slowly spread across his face as he faced Dean directly once more, taking both of Dean’s hands in his, bringing them up to his lips to kiss. 

“Happily.”

Dean beamed and tightened his hands around Cas’s. Together, they slowly made their way down the hall to the master bedroom. Dean helped Cas out of his shirt, dropping kisses along his boyfriend’s collarbone and jaw line until both of them were in their undershirts. Dean tried not to stare as Cas climbed out of his pants, but Cas caught him and winked. Dean flushed red and laughed nervously, quickly climbing out of his own before dashing under the covers. 

Cas’s laughter was genuine as he walked over to the left side of the bed, pulling back the blankets and sliding under. Soon enough, Cas’s arms were wrapped around him and Dean tucked his head beneath his lover’s chin, sighing against the stretch of warm skin and gentle heartbeat just beneath his ear. 

“You’re warm,” Dean mumbled, pulling Cas closer. Cas chuckled and wrapped his legs around Dean’s in response.

“So are you,” he whispered. 

Dean smiled and closed his eyes. Not long later, he fell asleep to the sound of Castiel’s breathing and the touch of a gentle kiss to his forehead. Dean had never felt more at peace.


	28. Fire and the Flood - Vance Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you SO much for your patience with me and this story. As all things do, everything must come to an end. And being myself, I tried to put it off as much as possible, both subconsciously and consciously. So again, my deepest apologies for the wait! I hope you like this final ending.
> 
> The theme song for this chapter is called Fire and the Flood by Vance Joy. I really feel it wraps up all of the feelings for this ending, and I sincerely hope you like it!
> 
> Again, thank you SO much for reading and reviewing. All of your comments gave me the life and passion to keep writing, and without you, this story would have NEVER been finished. Thank you for all your support and kindness. You all mean the entire world to me.

Fire and the Flood - Vance Joy

_I been getting used to waking up with you_   
_I been getting used to waking up here_   
_Anywhere I go there you are_   
_Anywhere I go there you are_

_..._

_Two Years Later_

 

“There you go,” Dean grinned, zipping up his little girl’s jacket to the top. Claire frowned back at him, gaze set and frustrated. She’d just turned five and it was her first real day at school. Dean had let her pick out her outfit and she’d taken the chance with both hands, choosing for herself her favorite red kitten shirt, a tutu, and blue shoes. If Dean had taken the lead, he would have made sure her outfit was a little more color coordinated, but it was Claire’s day. She could take the lead this time.

Aside from the massive pout on her face, she was ready to go.

“How ya’ feeling champ?” Dean asked. Claire huffed and shook her head.

“Don’t wanna go.”

“I know honey,” Dean murmured, kissing her forehead. “But you gotta.’ Don’t worry. I promise you’ll have fun.”

Claire still looked skeptical, but she didn’t fight as he stood and offered his hand for her to hold. The two marched out of Claire’s bedroom and down the hall, where soon they heard the sound of laughter down the stairs. As they turned the corner at the base of the steps, Dean beamed at the sight of Cas bouncing a three year old Emma on his hip, singing off-key and chuckling whenever Emma tried to shove her fist in Cas’s mouth.

“You two are off to a better morning than we are,” Dean called, catching Cas’s attention. Emma squealed and waved her arms as they entered. Dean scooped her up in his arms and Cas knelt down to get a look at Claire.

“Oh?” He asked. He poked Claire on the nose, eliciting a giggle and smile. “What’s the matter, munchkin? Aren’t you looking forward to school?”

“No!” Claire stated. She crossed her arms and pouted, bottom lip big and heavy. “It’s stupid! I don’t wanna’ go!”

“But Claire,” Cas reminded, “didn’t we go to the open house last week? You saw all your friends and they’re going to be in your class with Miss Gilda. Wasn’t Miss Gilda a lovely lady?”

Claire stopped pouting, but her frown held steady. “She’s pretty,” Claire admitted, scuffing her shoe against the floor.

“Yes, she is,” Dean agreed. Cas glared and Dean laughed, kissing Emma on the cheek.

“It’ll be boring though!” Claire continued. “I don’t like it!”

“You won’t know for sure until you try it,” Cas replied. He turned to Dean and Emma and asked, “Should we all go together?”

Dean pretended to think about it for a moment, tilting his head toward Emma. Emma scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue. “What do you think, Em-Em?” Dean asked, kissing her cheek again. “Wanna’ go for a car ride?”

Emma shrugged and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Dean gently pulled it back out and looked at Claire, who was still frowning with determination. “Hey Claire, you have to go to school today. But if you don’t have fun then you can decide if we have cake or ice cream after school ends.”

Claire’s eyes immediately widened and she unfolded her arms, smile starting to shine through.

“I want cake!” Claire replied, throwing up her arms and latching them around her father’s neck. Dean raised his eyebrows, grinning as Cas hugged his daughter back and lifted her off the ground.

“Well cake is fine with me,” Cas stated. “Now, let’s get your things to the car. It’s time to go.”

Getting Emma in her own jacket and shoes took more time, but when they were all loaded into the Impala everyone had smiles on their faces; even Claire managed not to frown, instead opting to vibrate in her car seat with excitement.

“I never thought I’d hear you offer cake before pie,” Cas mentioned as they pulled out of the drive.

Dean shrugged and winked, offering his hand over the stick shift. “What can I say. I’m a man of many tastes.”

“Hm.”

They were lucky to avoid tears when they dropped Claire off at her classroom. It was impossible to let go of her hand, grip tight until they were in the doorway and her teacher was waving at them kindly.

“Claire! It’s so good to see you!” Miss Gilda was bright and cheery as always, and like magic, all fight drained from Claire’s face and she released Cas’s hand. The little girl tore into the room and wrapped her arms around Gilda’s legs.

“Hi!” Claire exclaimed. “My dads promised me cake today!”

“Did they?” Gilda raised her eyebrows at the two men still in the doorway, three year old at their side. “That’s very nice of them.”

“Uh-huh,” Claire nodded. With that, she quickly noticed the blocks in the corner, as well as her friends, and dashed to join them.

Cas sighed in relief, and Dean smiled when Cas reached out and touched his hand. “Thank God,” Cas muttered. “I was convinced she would try to run away.”

“I thought she’d scream,” Dean admitted. He looked down at Emma, who was regarding the bigger kids curiously. “Hey Em, you’ll be big enough to come here too, someday.”

Emma’s eyes widened and she beamed. “Yeh?” She asked, raising her hands and clutching her fists. Dean smiled and lifted her up, adjusting his little girl on his hip.

“Yeah,” he promised. “You’ll have just as much fun as your big sister.”

“Yay!” Emma squealed. She turned and waved at Claire, grinning wider when Claire noticed and waved back. “Bye-Bye!”

Dean looked to Cas and smiled. Cas’s eyes were slightly teary. Dean knew if they stayed another minute, he wouldn’t be far off either.

“Let’s go,” Dean said. Cas nodded and followed him out, fingers tangled in his all the way back to the parking lot.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Cas asked as Dean strapped Emma back into her carseat. “She might hate it. What if she never wants to come back again?”

“I’m pretty sure that’ll happen either way,” Dean replied. At Cas’s horrified look, he quickly added, “Sooner or later. She’s gotta’ be a teenager eventually, right?”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Dean.”

“That’s because you’re a teacher and you’re biased.”

“Still not helping.”

“This might.”

Cas had barely a moment before Dean took hold of his arms and pulled him in for a kiss. He smiled when Cas groaned, holding him closer until the tension slowly began to fall from his shoulders.

When they parted, Emma was sticking out her tongue and making ‘yucky’ sounds. Cas chuckled and leaned his forehead against Dean’s.

“This is still strange to me,” Cas murmured, breath soft against Dean’s skin.

“It’s just school--”

“No, not just that,” Cas interrupted. Dean sobered quickly. “This morning we woke up together. You made breakfast, I got the kids out of bed. We all ate together and watched those cartoons Anna lent us, then you got Claire ready for school… talked her into going without a fuss… This is our life. It’s surreal.”

“I know,” Dean replied. He thought about it all the time, too. He remembered the first day he met Claire, at that little fair Charlie and Benny had set up. Cas had worn that damn awful trenchcoat, the same coat that Dean now missed terribly whenever it was gone. While it hadn’t been the first time Dean had met Cas, it was the first time he actually truly began to learn about the man. It was the first time anything more than vague friendship began. It was in the midst of all Dean’s turmoil, right after Abbi, right before hell and the return of Crowley.

Cas, Sam, Bobby, Claire, and Emma had been Dean’s foundation. They kept him grounded, reminded him of who he was and the true family he belonged to. While Charlie, Benny, Anna, and Gabe had certainly helped, without his family he would have been lost.

And now, now his family was even more cemented. It was his constant, his touchstone. He looked down at the gold band on Cas’s finger, a matching one on Dean’s.

Cas beat Dean to proposing. They’d both bought rings for each other, but Cas had more courage in the end. The night had ended in tears and the best love making Dean had ever had the pleasure of taking part in.

Dean had a new life. It had taken years of rebuilding trust and hope that things could get better, and in the end, it did.

They were standing on a new ground. They were in their new lives, together, and it was so different from everything Dean had ever known, he didn’t even know how to speak.

He still had Tessa sometimes when he got overwhelmed. But she was more of a friend than anything else at this point. It had been two years since everything truly ended, and when the rest of Dean’s life truly began.

Now, here they were, standing in front of Claire’s school on her first day and little Emma sitting in the car seat beside them making faces and giggling.

“I never thought I’d have this,” Dean whispered. “I never thought I’d have someone like you.”

Cas smiled gently and tilted forward, chapped lips softly pressing against his. “I know,” Cas echoed. “But now you do. And I have you too.”

Dean chuckled and closed his eyes, breathing in the moment and letting it rest. “Thank you.”

“I love you.”

Dean smiled and wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist, smiling ever brighter when Cas wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“I love you too.”

They kissed again, and with it, they were entirely at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- FIN

**Author's Note:**

> my blog: lovefromdean.tumblr.com
> 
> (if you guys have any questions or comments, please don't hesitate to do so! i hope you guys liked the chapter!)


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